TME  SB 
T 


WILSOM 


if*  • 


The  Sign  of  the  Cross 


By 

Wilson  Barrett 


Philadelphia 

J.   B.   Lippincott    Company 

i  904 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 

BY 
J.  B.  LIPPINCGTT  COMPANY 


PREFACE 

BY  THE  BISHOP  OF   TKTJKO. 

To  purify  the  stage,  that  the  stage  might  raise 
men,  to  go  straight  to  the  source  of  high  emotion,  to 
bring  together  the  old  and  the  new  natures  till  each 
told  the  truth  of  the  other,  to  bring  the  nineteenth 
century  face  to  face  with  the  first, — this  seemed  to 
me  heroic. 

And  the  more  so,  because  great  actors  and  good  men 
said  it  was  impossible,  for  the  English  playgoer  was 
best  caught  with  broad  pieces  and  the  things  which  he 
would  condemn  in  the  real  life  of  his  own  home. 

Many  a  tragedian  preferred  the  things  that  make  for 
good,  but  their  audience  seemed  of  another  mind. 

"We  only  seemed  so ;  at  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  all 
the  time  there  was  a  scorn  of  base  thoughts,  and  a 
kindling  to  whatever  is  pure  and  true  and  honourable 
and  lovely,  although  we  did  not  always  know  it.  And 

3 

21343^7 


PREFACE 

when  the  Sign  of  the  Cross  reached  us,  we  knew  its 
kindred  touch,  and  the  story  found  itself  at  home. 

So  we  thank  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett  for  his  work,  his 
success  seems  to  be  ours,  his  success  is  the  mother  of 
Plays  that  live,  and  ideas  of  life  that  make  men  live. 

JOHN  TEUEON. 
TRENYTHON,  CORNWALL. 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — MERCIA 9 

II.— MARCUS H 

III.— NERO 21 

IV.— MELOS 28 

V. — MERCIA'S  SORROW 35 

VI.— THE  PERSECUTIONS 41 

VII.— SOMK  PATRICIANS 50 

VIII.— BERENICE 71 

IX. — THE  ARREST  OP  STEPHANUS 85 

X. — THE  TORTURING  OF  STEPHANUS 101 

XI.— THE  DEATH  OF  FAVIUS 116 

XII.— THE  WOOING  OF  BERENICE 130 

XIII.— SOME  PERPLEXITIES 164 

XIV.— POPP.EA  WINS 191 

XV.— ANCARIA 206 

XVI.— MERCIA'S  PERIL 224 

XVII.— MERCIA'S  CONDEMNATION 255 

XVIII. — THE  REMORSE  OF  MARCUS 262 

XIX.— A  ROMAN  FESTIVAL 280 

XX.— THE  GATES  AJAR 286 

XXL— MKRCIA  SAVES  MARCUS    .                                   .  294 


List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 
"  VlTURIUS,    I    HOLD    YOU    RESPONSIBLE    FOR    THIS    LADY'S 

SAFETY" Frontispiece 

SHE   BENT    UPON    HIM    A    GLANCE   THAT    WAS    DIRECT    AND 

WARM  72 

MARCUS,  ACCEPTING  THE  SCROLL,  SMILED  COLDLY  ....    78 

"  AND  IF  THOU  BETRAYEST  THE  SMALLEST  OF  HlS  CHIL- 
DREN, THOU  BETRAYEST  HlM" QO 

BERENICE  WAS  TORN  WITH  LOVE,  PRIDE,  HUMILIATION, 

ANGER,  AND  SHAME 148 

SHE  HELD  THE  WOODEN  CROSS  ALOFT,  CRYING,  "  A  SIGN  ! 

A    SIGN  !"         253 

"  THE  HOUR  OF  DARKNESS  LOOMS  CLOSE  TO  THEE,  CESAR, 

AND  TO  ROME" 270 

"  COME,  MY  BRIDE" 303 


PROEM 

IN  Jerusalem,  in  a  low  workshop,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Temple  Mount,  two  labouring  men — one  stal- 
wart and  ponderous  of  movement,  with  dark,  surly 
face,  thick,  pendent  lower  lip,  and  beady,  twinkling, 
black  eyes ;  the  other  short,  bloated,  and  wheezy  of 
breath — were  engaged  constructing  a  rude  gibbet  of 
unplaned  wood,  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  The  upright 
bar  was  about  twelve  feet  high,  the  transverse  about 
six  in  length  ;  upon  this  was  to  be  crucified  the  follow- 
ing day  one  Jesus,  a  Nazarene,  by  many  called  Christ. 
This  gibbet  was  the  last  of  three  that  they  had  been 
making  that  day. 

No  sculptured  stone  of  Phidias  or  Michael  Angelo, 
no  painting  of  Apelles  or  Eaphael,  no  masterpiece  of 
art,  however  valued,  no  manuscript  or  precious  record 
of  the  history  or  thought  of  man,  could  so  stir  the 
imagination,  touch  the  heart,  move  the  soul,  or  bring  so 
large  a  price  as  one  authenticated  foot  of  that  rough- 
hewn  gallows  would  realise  this  day.  Offered  for  sale, 
a  world  would  bid  for  it.  Little  dreamed  those  two 
men  plying  their  trade,  eager  to  be  done  and  get  to 
the  wine-shop,  that  for  thousands  of  years  untold 


PROEM 

millions  would  make  of  this  handiwork  of  theirs  a 
Sign,  as  the  outward  acknowledgment  of  their  faith  ; 
and  that  for  countless  ages  the  most  potent  factor  in 
civilising  and  humanising  the  world  would  be  — 


of  tfje 


The  Sign  of  the  Cross 


CHAPTER   I 

MERCIA 

IN  the  atrium  of  the  house  of  a  merchant,  in  a  secluded 
street  in  Home,  two  children  were  playing — a  boy  and 
a  girl.  The  boy  was  between  nine  and  ten  years  of 
age — a  sturdy,  well-made  lad,  with  earnest,  blue-grey 
eyes,  and  a  round,  honest,  comely  face.  The  girl  was 
some  five  years  younger — a  lithe,  lissome  little  maiden, 
with  large,  brown,  lustrous,  wondering  eyes,  and  a  mass 
of  dark-brown  curls,  glinted  with  threads  of  gold  in  the 
sunshine ;  curls  which  the  child  had  a  pretty  little  trick 
of  tossing  from  her  eyes  and  forehead.  Her  lips  were 
thin  and  sensitive — almost  too  sensitive — but  they  were 
full  of  life  and  colour.  Her  hands  and  feet  were  small ; 
her  complexion  of  a  marble  clearness  and  smoothness, 
rose-tinted  with  health  and  good  temper. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  room  the  embrasure  of  the 
window  had  been  built  in  the  form  of  a  long,  narrow 
cross ;  through  this  the  sun  poured  on  to  the  shaded 
floor  and  formed  there  a  cross  of  golden  sunshine,  in 
the  rays  of  which  the  children  gambolled. 

"Yes,  dear  Mercia,"  said  the  boy,  "and  I  shall — 

9 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

being  older  than  thou — have  to  wait  for  thee ;  but  I 
will  wait,  and,  when  thou  art  old  enough,  I  will  wed 
thee." 

""Wed?"  asked  the  tiny  little  woman  innocently. 
"  Wed  ?  What  is  wed  ?" 

"Make  thee  my  wife,"  the  boy  replied,  blushing 
slightly  at  his  own  temerity. 

"Make  me  thy  wife?"  lisped  the  little  maid  de- 
murely. "  Nay,  that  thou  shalt  never  do.  I  am  very, 
very  grieved,  dear  Melos,  to  deny  thee  aught,  but  that 
I  cannot  promise.  Do  not  let  it  vex  thee,  for,  though 
I  cannot  let  thee  make  me  thy  wife,  I  will  be  thy 
dearest  friend,  dear,  dearest  Melos." 

"  But,  Mercia,"  began  the  lad. 

"  No,  Melos,  no ;  I  cannot,"  firmly  replied  the  child. 
"  Pray  thee,  do  not  ask  such  things." 

Years  afterwards,  when  the  little  Melos  was  grown 
to  manhood,  and  the  child  had  become  a  lovely  woman, 
he  pleaded  thus  to  Mercia  once  again,  for  the  boy  was 
faithful  to  his  child-love  all  the  days  of  his  life. 

Melos  was  an  orphan,  the  son  of  a  dead  friend  of  the 
owner  of  the  house,  in  which  he  lived  as  one  of  the 
family.  The  owner  was  one  Lucius,  a  merchant,  de- 
scended from  an  ancient  family  of  honourable  traditions, 
whose  distinctions  had  passed  away  in  poverty. 

Lucius  was  a  man  of  high  integrity,  excellent  capacity, 
and  untiring  industry.  To  dispose  of  his  merchandise 
he  travelled  into  many  lands  and  met  many  men.  He 
went  to  Palestine,  abiding  for  a  time  in  the  Port  of 
Csesarea.  Here  he  met  a  centurion  named  Signinus, 
who  saw  Jesus  die.  Many  were  the  conversations  these 
10 


MERCIA 

two  had  together  in  the  house  of  Signinus,  where  men 
of  all  nations  gathered  together  to  talk  of  their  Re- 
deemer. Eagerly  Lucius  drank  in  the  new  gospel,  and, 
in  the  end,  he  embraced  the  new  faith. 

Returning  to  Home  he  married  a  pure  and  lovely 
woman,  named  Galata.  Younger  than  himself  by 
several  years,  of  a  bright  and  beautiful  nature,  she  was 
a  perpetual  delight  to  him.  His  graver  spirit  basked 
in  the  beams  of  her  sunny  temperament,  and  happiness 
came  to  him  that  he  had  never  dreamed  of.  On  her 
side,  his  knowledge,  probity,  and  gentleness  of  spirit  in- 
stilled a  depth  of  love  and  devotion  which  filled  the 
whole  of  her  being. 

Galata,  too,  had  heard  of  Jesus  from  an  acquaintance 
of  both — one  Favius,  a  man  deeply  respected,  well  past 
the  prime  of  life,  who  led  a  quiet  existence,  gaining  a 
livelihood  by  copying  for  the  booksellers.  This  Favius, 
fervent  of  disposition,  impatient  of  wrong,  had  embraced 
with  ardour  the  doctrines  of  Christ,  and  with  no  less 
energy  and  fervency  did  he  strive  to  disseminate  them 
amongst  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

That  this  mutual  belief  in  the  new  creed  should  bring 
husband  and  wife  still  closer  together  was  but  natural ; 
equally  natural  was  it  that  it  should  tend  to  draw  them 
farther  apart  from  the  pagans  around  them.  In  this 
quiet  seclusion  and  self-sought  isolation  their  daughter, 
Mercia,  was  born  and  reared. 

Inheriting  the  cheerfulness  of  the  mother  and  the 

calm  dignity  of  the  father,  little  Mercia  was  a  happy 

child,  quiet  and  lonely  though  her  surroundings  were. 

Favius  grew  to  love  the  tiny  maiden  almost  as  dearly  as 

II 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

her  own  father,  and,  at  his  earnest  request,  Lucius  and 
Galata  confided  to  him  her  education. 

Thus,  in  the  protection  of  these  three  noble  and  de- 
voutly affectionate  souls,  Mercia's  nature  was  moulded. 
Her  first  lispings  were  the  prayer  that  He  gave  to  His 
disciples ;  and  with  the  first  beginning  of  knowledge 
came  the  knowledge  of  Him  who  died  on  the  Cross  for 
her  and  for  the  world.  Unconsciously  there  grew  up 
in  the  child  a  habit  of  restraint  towards  strangers  and 
those  towards  whom  her  parents  exercised  reserve,  but 
there  was  an  inner  circle  in  which  she  felt  herself  free 
of  utterance — friends  who  visited  the  house  of  her 
father  and  Favius  as  more  than  friends,  with  whom  she 
felt  a  pure  and  binding  fellowship,  even  as  a  child. 

When  Nero  came  to  the  throne,  Mercia  was  eight 
years  old.  She  knew  little  of  the  world  around  her, 
yet  even  childhood  must  be  conscious  of  atmosphere, 
and,  from  whispered  talk,  she  gathered  a  crude  but 
just  idea  that  her  parents  and  friends  were  objects  of 
suspicion  and  dislike  to  the  government  and  the  general 
populace. 

Claudius  and  his  court  had  been  objects  of  dread  to 
the  Christians,  as  they  were  called.  Claudius  was  dead, 
and  Nero  reigned  in  his  place.  Much  was  hoped  for 
from  Nero.  Men  spoke  of  his  youth,  his  beauty  of 
face,  and  his  aptitude  for  learning.  His  master,  Seneca, 
was  proud  of  his  pupil,  and  almost  afraid  of  him. 

Seneca  her  father  spoke  of  as  a  man  of  much  worth 
and  a  teacher  of  many  good  things,  and  it  was  believed 
that  he  and  honest  Burrhus  together  would  guide  the 
young  Emperor  to  just  rule  and  sovereignty. 
12 


MERCIA 

When  Mercia  was  twelve  years  old  there  was  much 
excitement  and  expectation  among  the  little  band  of 
Christians  in  Eome.  A  lady  from  Greece  was  coming 
to  visit  them,  and  this  lady  brought  a  letter  from 
Paulus  himself,  that  one-time  persecutor,  now  teacher, 
guide,  and  leader  of  the  faithful.  Joyfully  was  the 
epistle  received,  and  quickly  was  it  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth  among  the  brethren.  Many  were  the  secret 
meetings  called  to  hear  and  discuss  it — in  caves,  in 
granaries,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  woods  it  was  read 
and  re-read.  Every  man  and  woman  of  the  Christian 
community  had  each  precious  word  thereof  stored  up 
in  their  memories  to  transmit  to  their  children  and 
their  children's  children  after  them. 

The  years  went  on,  and  Mercia  had  reached  the  age 
of  sixteen.  Tall  beyond  the  common  for  her  years ;  of 
beautiful  but  exquisitely  fragile  figure ;  with  the  face 
of  a  Madonna,  clear  cut  as  a  cameo ;  eyes  of  a  deep, 
rich,  velvety  dark-brown,  eyes  that  glassed  a  soul  of 
absolute  purity ;  a  carriage  of  perfect  grace,  and  a  step 
so  light  and  elastic  that  she  seemed  more  to  tread  the 
air  than  the  earth :  it  was  no  marvel  that  she  should 
compel  earthly  love  in  the  hearts  of  the  men  who  were 
privileged  to  meet  her.  Of  this  Mercia  knew  little, 
and  heeded  less.  Happy  in  the  devotion  of  her  father, 
mother,  and  her  teacher,  Favius,  she  sought  no  other 
ties ;  and  those  who  were  inspired  with  love  for  her  felt 
the  hopelessness  of  their  passion,  and  kept  the  knowl- 
edge of  it  to  themselves. 


CHAPTER   II 

MARCUS 

AT  this  period  of  Mercia's  life,  Nero  appointed  as 
Prefect  of  Kome  one  Marcus,  a  young  Patrician  of  some 
eight  and  twenty  years  of  age.  The  Prefectship  was 
given  to  Marcus  as  it  was  usually  given — more  as  an 
act  of  favour  than  one  of  right  and  justice.  Theoreti- 
cally the  post  of  Prefect  was  an  onerous  one,  practically 
it  was  a  sinecure.  Generally  it  was  held  by  young  men 
of  the  best  families  who  had,  or  whose  friends  had, 
great  influence  at  court.  In  this  case  it  was  bestowed 
by  Nero  partly  for  immense  favours  received  from  the 
father  of  Marcus,  whose  wealth  was  boundless,  and 
partly  out  of  liking  for  the  manly,  free-spirited,  light- 
hearted  young  noble  himself. 

The  home  of  Marcus  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
in  Eome.  A  palace  in  a  city  of  palaces.  Luxury, 
grandeur,  beauty,  taste,  and  wealth  were  stamped  on 
every  corner  of  it,  from  its  white  marble  coping  to  its 
tessellated  basement.  Its  courts  were  daily  thronged 
with  the  fashion,  wit,  wisdom,  manhood,  and  loveliness 
of  Rome.  Lavish  hospitality  and  reckless  extravagance 
were  common  enough  among  the  patricians  of  the  time, 
but  nowhere  was  hospitality  more  markedly  lavish  and 
extravagance  more  reckless  than  in  the  house  of  Mar- 


MARCUS 

CUB.  His  father  was  a  man  of  ancient  lineage,  possessed 
of  talents  not  unworthy  of  those  ancestors  who  had,  in 
the  Senate  and  the  battlefield,  contributed  to  the  build- 
ing up  of  Eoraan  power  and  grandeur.  But  it  was  a 
time  when  to  exercise  talent  in  Rome  was  a  dangerous 
thing,  nor  had  he  any  great  inclination  for  exertion. 
He  filled  offices  in  the  usual  course,  because  his  family 
was  accustomed  to  take  office,  and  it  would  have  seemed 
derogatory  to  his  position  as  head  of  the  house  if  he 
had  not ;  but  he  was  naturally  too  indolent  and  too 
content  to  be  at  ease  to  possess  either  zeal  or  ambition. 
In  his  office  he  was  ready  to  execute  the  laws  with 
tolerable  intelligence  and  impartiality ;  not  inclined  to 
rigour,  he  yet  could  be — as  Rome  could  ever  be — merci- 
less if  roused.  In  his  private  life  he  was  somewhat 
better  than  his  compeers.  He  had  his  vices — they 
were  a  natural  adjunct  to  his  place  and  position — but 
he  kept  them  within  bounds,  and,  to  his  credit,  it  may 
be  added  that  he  never  obtruded  them  upon  his  wife. 
She,  like  himself,  was  the  descendant  of  a  great  family, 
and  brought  with  her  a  dower  which  formed  a  sensible 
addition  to  even  his  vast  wealth.  Handsome,  stately, 
with  all  the  habits  and  bearing  of  high  place,  she  was 
a  dignified  mistress  of  a  household  peculiarly  dignified. 
Her  innate  pride,  and  perhaps  some  vague  feeling  of 
the  traditional  virtues  of  the  women  of  her  ancestry  in 
purer  Roman  days,  made  her  disdain  the  looseness  of 
the  average  woman  of  the  day.  Her  husband's  lapses 
were  never  thrust  upon  her,  and  she  moved  on  her  own 
way  without  curiosity  or  inquiry — content  with  his 
ever  graceful  and  sufficiently  considerate  regard,  of 

15 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

which  she  always  felt  pleasantly  and  perfectly  se- 
cure. 

Between  this  somewhat  cold  couple  one  great  bond 
existed — their  intense  and  absorbing  affection  for  their 
only  child,  their  son,  Marcus.  In  him  was  centred  all 
the  ambition  they  knew,  and,  as  his  mind  and  person 
developed,  their  pride  and  hopes  became  more  and 
more  concentrated  upon  him.  Komans  had  been,  and 
might  still  be,  great ;  in  Marcus  they  saw — or  thought 
they  saw — every  element  of  greatness ;  and  no  care 
was  lacking  to  make  his  training  and  education  com- 
plete. 

He  was  not  left,  as  were  most  children  of  the  better 
classes  of  the  time,  to  the  charge  of  a  Greek  chamber- 
maid and  a  casual  slave  or  two,  but  to  the  care  of  a 
woman  of  some  education,  considerable  character,  and 
good  reputation ;  and  with  this  nurse  were  associated 
some  specially  selected  slaves  to  minister  to  his  wants, 
and  teach  him  as  little  evil  as  was  possible  in  such  a 
time  at  Eome.  The  claims  of  society  were  often 
ignored  by  the  mother,  that  her  beloved  boy  might 
nestle  in  her  arms  or  play  by  her  side,  while  the  father 
would  never  hesitate  to  give  up  even  a  pet  dissipation 
in  order  to  spend  the  time  with  his  son. 

To  their  son  both  parents  showed  the  best  side  of 
their  character,  and  he,  in  return,  loved  and  honoured 
them.  Their  judgment  in  the  choice  of  tutors  was 
sound  and  good.  Men  capable  and  honest  of  purpose 
were  at  that  time  hard  to  find,  but  they  were  found, 
and  they  unfolded  to  the  quick  and  eager  youth  the 
history  of  Home.  Her  literature,  the  meagre  but  virile 
16 


MARCUS 

works  of  her  older  authors,  and  the  splendid  writings 
of  the  golden  age  of  Augustus  were  constantly  in  his 
hands.  Greek  became  by  easy  habit  a  second  language 
to  him,  and  he  knew  fairly  well  the  literature  of  Greece, 
her  poetry,  drama,  history,  and  philosophy.  If  the  in- 
clinations of  his  parents  were  towards  over-indulgence, 
it  was  to  a  great  extent  counteracted  by  his  teachers, 
who  found  a  moral  support  in  the  boy  himself,  who 
gave  but  little  occasion  for  discipline.  He  showed 
every  indication  of  talent,  and  was  by  no  means  devoid 
of  application  when  he  was  interested,  though  he  was 
difficult  to  pin  down  to  any  set  rules  or  regular  course 
of  industry.  Quick  to  apprehend  and  learn  where  his 
desire  was  excited,  drudgery  of  any  kind  repelled  and 
disgusted  him.  Great  deeds  and  great  thoughts  would 
inflame  his  mind  and  soul, — but  great  deeds  and 
thoughts  were  rare  among  those  with  whom  he 
mingled.  The  days  of  his  youth  had  not  been  clois- 
tered, and  those  of  his  young  manhood  were  spent  with 
the  youthful  bloods  of  his  time. 

As  has  been  shown,  his  father  and  mother  alike  were 
no  stern  moralists,  nor  did  it  alarm  or  distress  them 
that  their  son  should  indulge  in  the  fashionable  follies 
and  vices  of  the  period.  Ample  means  were  at  his  dis- 
posal, which  he  was  encouraged  to  spend,  and,  while  he 
had  intellect  enough  to  be  attracted  by  the  thoughts  of 
philosophers  and  dreams  of  poets,  there  was  in  him 
enough  of  the  animal  to  impel  him  to  the  gratification 
of  desires  by  no  means  philosophical  or  ideal.  From  the 
utter  degradation  of  many  of  the  fashionable  young 
men  around  him,  and  from  their  effeminacy,  his  innate 
17 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

manliness  preserved  him.  Their  more  brutal  indulg- 
ences disgusted  him,  and  from  many  well-born  amongst 
them  he  held  absolutely  aloof,  and,  when  questioned, 
did  not  hesitate  to  give  the  reason  why.  Trained  in 
martial  arid  athletic  exercises,  he  rejoiced  in  the 
practice  of  them.  When  of  fit  age  he  was  sent  for  a 
season  to  the  army  on  the  borders  of  Germany.  He 
revelled  in  the  soldier's  life,  and,  although  the  time 
was  one  of  peace,  took  part  in  a  few  skirmishes  in  the 
course  of  necessary  expeditions  for  the  preservation 
of  order  on  those  dangerous  frontiers.  In  these  he 
showed  utter  fearlessness  and  a  natural  aptitude  for 
war  and  the  command  of  men.  The  Germans  in- 
terested him — barbarians  though  they  were — and  his 
own  bold,  free  spirit  sympathised  naturally  and  easily 
with  their  vigour  and  independence.  When  a  Ger- 
man chief  said,  "A  land  to  live  in  we  may  want,  but  a 
place  to  die  in  we  cannot,"  he  recognised  the  same 
noble  spirit  which  distinguished  many  a  hero  of  old 
Some. 

The  strict  severity  of  the  matrimonial  bond  among 
these  savages  half  amazed  and  half  amused  him.  The 
wife,  he  saw,  came  to  her  husband  as  a  partner  in  toil 
and  danger,  to  suffer  and  to  dare  equally  with  him  in 
peace  and  war.  Thus  she  was  to  live  and  thus  to  die. 
The  punishment  of  adultery  was  as  instant  and  inevi- 
table as  under  the  old  Mosaic  law  ;  none  looked  on  vice 
with  a  smile.  The  woman  took  one  husband  as  one 
body  and  one  life ;  no  thought,  no  desire  was  to  range 
beyond  him.  Many  a  camp  joke  was  passed  as  to  the 
fate  of  some  of  the  loveliest  ladies  of  Borne,  were  morals 
18 


MARCUS 

so  enforced  with  them ;  but  none  the  less  the  nobler 
nature  of  Marcus,  corrupted  as  it  was  by  indulgence, 
could,  and  did,  appreciate  the  loftier  ideal.  But  his 
soldiering  was  cut  short  by  the  sudden  death  of  his 
mother,  and  his  recall  to  Home  by  his  surviving  parent. 

The  loss  of  his  mother  was  a  great  grief  to  Marcus. 
Her  entire  wealth  she  bequeathed,  by  the  father's 
consent,  lo  her  son.  This  gave  him  still  further  power 
and  importance  in  Eome,  and  Nero  sought  him  out  and 
attached  him  to  his  court. 

His  father  outlived  his  mother  but  a  short  time.  To 
his  own  astonishment,  possibly,  he  found  that  he 
missed  her  as  a  better  part  of  himself,  and,  having  lost 
her,  persuaded  himself  that  he  had  deeply  and  truly 
loved  her,  and,  refusing  to  be  comforted,  set  about 
pining  for  her  with  a  plenitude  of  sentimental  sorrow 
that  was  at  once  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  Eome. 
His  own  devotion  and  constancy  to  her  sweet  memory 
was  a  thing  so  pathetic  to  himself  that  in  absolute  self- 
pity  he  gave  up  the  ghost  and  followed  her. 

Thus  Marc-us  became  the  richest  man  in  Kome  and  in 
the  Emperor's  favour.  It  was  difficult  to  keep  aloof 
from  the  most  abominable  of  Nero's  orgies,  but  he  did 
avoid  them,  and,  in  so  doing,  excited  the  hatred  of 
Casar's  most  trusted  councillor,  Tigellinus,  a  man  of 
great  cunning  and  ferocity,  who  ministered  to  and  en- 
couraged Nero  in  the  vilest  excesses.  No  intrigue  was 
too  low,  no  tyranny  too  cruel  for  this  creature.  Mercy 
was  unknown  to  him,  and  he  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  instigating  his  royal  master  to  some  hellish  deed, 
or  helping  him  to  accomplish  it. 

19 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

The  knowledge  of  Nero's  liking  for  Marcus  was  as 
wormwood  to  Tigellinus,  and  his  dearest  wish  and 
dream  was  to  find  some  means  of  discrediting  him  with 
Caesar.  In  the  fulness  of  time  his  opportunity  came, 
but  it  was  not  yet. 


20 


CHAPTER    III 

NERO 

TIGELLINUS  had  announced  a  public  reception  to* 
Nero.  Kumour  averred  that  it  would  exceed  in  prodi- 
gality and  licence  anything  that  even  Rome  had  wit- 
nessed. Public  holiday  was  proclaimed,  all  business 
suspended ;  the  schools  and  Senate  were  closed.  So 
degraded  were  the  people  as  a  mass  that,  although  it 
was  freely  stated  that  the  spectacles  were  to  be  of  the 
most  licentious  character,  parents  did  not  hesitate  to 
scramble  for  seats  and  positions  where  their  children 
could  witness  the  orgies  side  by  side  with  themselves. 

But  few,  save  the  Christians,  expressed  any  ab- 
horrence of  the  coming  saturnalia ;  they  determined  to 
remain  within  doors  until  all  was  over. 

So  colossal  was  Nero's  vanity  that  no  homage  was 
sufficient,  no  flatiery  too  gross  to  satisfy  him.  He  was, 
in  his  own  estimation,  a  god  above  the  gods,  and  was 
madly  jealous  of  any  devotion  to  the  deities  of  which 
he  did  not  receive  the  lion's  share.  Any  defection 
from  his  feasts  brought  instant  and  condign  punish- 
ment upon  the  absentee.  To  avoid  this,  men  had 
recourse  to  all  manner  of  artifices.  Sickness  was 
feigned — even  serious  wounds  were  self-inflicted  in 
order  to  explain  or  excuse  non-appearance.  A  seeming 
Blight  to  his  own  "sacred  person"  Nero  resented  and 
21 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

punished.  A  message  would  be  sent  to  the  defaulter 
to  quit  not  Eome  only,  but  the  world,  where  his  pres- 
ence was  a  constant  insult  to  Nero's  godhead. 

Tigellinus  was  as  vile  as  his  august  master — a  being 
without  shame,  humanity,  or  decency;  with  almost 
unlimited  authority  from  Nero  for  debauchery  and 
cruelty,  he  spurred  his  filthy  imagination  to  absolute 
riot  in  the  planning  and  execution  of  this  particular 
feast. 

He  caused  to  be  built  on  the  lake  of  Agn'ppa,  which 
wa*s  in  the  public  gardens  adjoining  his  house,  a  huge 
raft,  luxuriously  appointed,  on  which  he  arranged  a 
magnificent  banquet.  This  raft  was  drawn  up  and 
down  the  lake  by  boats  striped  with  gold  and  ivory, 
and  the  rowers  were  arranged  according  to  their  ages 
and  their  proficiency  in  the  practice  of  debauchery. 
The  raft  was  fitted  with  exquisite  divans  and  couches 
of  the  softest  silks;  the  awnings  were  of  the  same 
materials  ;  braziers,  burning  the  sweetest  incense,  were 
placed  at  intervals  along  the  raft ;  a  band  of  the  most 
famous  musicians  of  the  city  discoursed  voluptuous 
music ;  tents,  lavishly  furnished  and  decorated,  mar- 
gined the  whole  of  the  lake,  wherein  ladies  of  dis- 
tinction indulged  in  the  grossest  profligacy. 

In  the  centre  of  the  raft,  reclining  upon  soft  couches, 
were  Nero  and  his  favourites  of  both  sexes,  who  paid 
him  the  most  fulsome  compliments;  but  even  their 
slavish  obsequiousness  and  gross  flattery,  that  should 
have  wearied  and  sickened  him,  could  not  keep  pace 
with  his  inordinate  appetite  for  adulation. 

At  his  side  was  Poppsea,  his  Empress ;  at  his  feet 
22 


NERO 

Acte,  the  beautiful  woman  whom  he  had  bought  as  a 
slave  and  emancipated.  At  some  little  distance  stood 
Marcus,  the  young  Prefect  of  Eome,  a  frown  of  disgust 
upon  his  handsome  face.  Kichly  and  tastefully  dressed, 
he  formed  a  conspicuous  figure,  even  amongst  all  the 
glitter  and  show  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  Poppsea 
flashed  under  her  long  lashes  a  glance  in  his  direction, 
and  turning  to  Nero,  said — 

"How  rapt  our  Marcus  seems!     How  silent!" 

Nero  turned  and  looked  at  Marcus,  and  beckoned 
him  to  approach.  Marcus  did  so,  with  a  slow  and 
stately  step  that  contrasted  strangely  with  the  fawn- 
ing servility  of  the  rest  of  the  court. 

"  Well,  well,  my  Marcus  !  What  dost  thou  think  of 
this?"  said  Nero,  indicating  with  a  broad  sweep  of  the 
hand  the  spectacle  on  either  side  of  the  lake. 

"  I  think,  Csesar,"  replied  Marcus,  "  that  it  is  worthy 
of  a  Tigellinus." 

"  But  not  of  a  Marcus,  eh  ?"  muttered  Tigellinus. 

"A  Marcus  could  assuredly  never  have  designed 
such  a  feast,"  said  Marcus.  "  He  lacks  the  taste — and 
skill." 

"Come,  come,  Marcus,  taste  thou  hast  of  a  kind. 
Indeed,  that  last  banquet  of  thine  was  a  marvel — but 
cold,  my  Marcus,  cold !  The  women  were  beautiful — 
that  is,  what  one  could  see  of  them,  but  somewhat 
frigid,  eh  ?  Eeserved,  eh  ?  Not  like  these,  eh  ?  Look 
at  that.  There's  life,  eh?  And  fire,  eh?"  and  the 
bloated  sensualist  pointed  to  a  group  in  one  of  the 
open  tents. 

Marcus  turned  away  his  head  with  a  look  of  such 

23 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

abhorrence  and  disgust  that  Poppsea,  ever  alert  and 
watchful  in  his  interests,  called  to  him  to  pick  up  her 
fan,  which  she  had  dropped,  in  order  that  Nero  should 
not  see  the  look  of  loathing  on  the  face  of  Marcus. 

Poppaea  was  an  extraordinary  woman,  her  power 
over  Nero  would  alone  prove  this.  Undoubtedly  she, 
with  Acte,  held  longer  sway  over  his  erratic  nature 
than  any  other  of  his  wives  or  women  ;  but  Poppsea's 
influence  was  seldom  used  for  good.  She  was  unscrupu- 
lous and  ambitious,  and,  for  power,  as  hungry  as  Nero 
himself.  Her  beauty  was  of  the  ethereal  type.  Fair 
in  the  extreme,  with  an  abundance  of  flossy  hair,  soft 
as  spun  silk,  which  she  delighted  in  letting  loose  about 
her  shoulders;  eyes  of  an  intense  blue,  that  looked  up 
at  men  with  an  expression  so  childlike  and  artless  that 
it  made  them  doubt  the  evidence  of  their  own  senses 
and  knowledge,  and  set  them  wondering  whether,  after 
all,  she  was  not  maligned  and  libelled,  whether  she  was 
not  as  innocent  as  report  implied  she  was  base.  That 
she  loved  Nero  was  impossible.  A  certain  refinement 
in  vice  was  hers,  and  Nero's  degrading  practices  were 
hateful  to  her;  but  she  had  to  pander  to  them,  or  lose 
her  hold  upon  him.  This  she  did  so  cunningly,  and 
with  such  consummate  realisation  of  shocked  and  terri- 
fied modesty,  that  Nero  was  deceived  again  and  again. 

The  contrast  of  Nero's  baseness  and  the  inner  nobility 
of  the  nature  of  Marcus  was  so  strong  that  Poppa3a's 
fancy  was  inflamed  by  it,  and  such  love  or  passion  as 
she  was  capable  of  went  out  to  the  handsome  young 
Prefect.  Often  had  she  endeavoured  to  draw  Marcus 
into  an  intrigue  and  failed.  Her  failures  served  but  to 

24 


NERO 

make  her  desire  to  subjugate  him  the  more  ardent,  and, 
had  not  the  suspicion  with  which  all  around  Nero's 
court  were  regarded  prevented  her,  she  would  have 
gone  to  any  extreme  to  attach  him  to  her  side.  She 
knew  Marcus  was  fearless,  indeed  reckless,  and,  not 
wishing  that  he  should  publicly  show  his  detestation 
of  the  scenes  being  enacted  around  him, — an  act  which 
might  lead  to  some  equally  public  rebuke  from  Caesar, 
—she  tried,  by  engaging  him  in  conversation,  to  direct 
his  attention  from  his  surroundings.  Mentally  she  con- 
trasted the  fine,  athletic  figure  of  Marcus  with  the 
prematurely  aged  and  bloated  satyr  at  her  side.  But 
just  turned  thirty,  Nero  was  more  feeble  than  many 
men  of  twice  his  years.  The  result  of  his  horrible 
dissipations  could  be  seen  in  the  shaking  hands,  loaded 
with  rings,  the  twitching  mouth,  and  in  the  restless 
eyes,  to  which  habitual  fear  had  given  a  hunted  and 
tormented  look  that  came  and  went  alternately  with 
glares  of  insane  ferocity  and  unbridled  lust.  His 
ability  could  not  be  questioned.  His  rebuilding  of 
Rome,  for  example,  was  a  magnificently  devised  and 
executed  work.  His  vanity  was  a  mania  that  under- 
mined his  whole  being,  and  made  of  him  the  unnatural 
monster  that  he  was.  Yet  he  could  at  times  show  the 
greatest  kindness,  while  his  remorse  and  terrors  were, 
at  times,  horrible. 

A  revolting  creature  he  looked  as  he  sat  there  in 
state.  His  face  was  puffed  and  swollen,  the  lower  jaw 
underhung,  and  the  chin  doubled ;  his  auburn  hair  was 
carefully  curled  over  his  forehead  in  stiff,  unnatural 
ringlets.  He  was  splendidly  but  effeminately  dressed, 

25 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

and  when  he  moved,  he  did  so  with  all  the  airs  of  a 
peacock.  This  was  the  being  who  terrified  the  whole 
of  Borne  into  a  state  of  moral  degradation  unparalleled 
in  the  history  of  the  civilised  world. 

•'  What  an  exquisite  piece  of  music,"  said  Poppaea, 
anxious  to  divert  Marcus's  attention.  "  Is  it  not?" 

"  Enchanting,  lady ;  too  enchanting  to  accompany  a 
scene  so  vile." 

"Hush,  hush,  impetuous  one!"  whispered  Poppsea 
under  her  breath.  '•  Be  more  guarded.  Had  Nero 
heard  that  speech,  or  seen  the  look  that  went  with  it, 
it  might  accompany  a  scene  as  solemn  as  thy  death. 
Thou  k  no  west  Caesar  brooks  no  frown  when  he  is 
pleased  to  smile." 

"  I  am  no  comedian,  as  Caesar  is,"  answered  Marcus. 
11  What  my  heart  feels  my  face  must  show." 

•'  What's  that,  eh  ?"  queried  Nero,  partly  overhearing 
Marcus.  "No  comedian?  Ah,  no!  I  can  act.  All 
Naples  fought  for  places  to  see  me,  and  so  overloaded 
the  theatre  that  the  foundations  were  shaken,  and, 
when  the  vast  audience  had  left,  it  fell — a  heap  of 
crumbled  ruins.  Didst  hear  of  that,  eh,  my  Marcus?" 

"  Yea,  Caesar,  often,"  said  Marcus  drily.  And  indeed 
he  had  heard  of  it  many  a  time,  for  Nero  never  wearied 
of  boasting  of  his  theatrical  achievements  and  triumphs, 
which  he  bought  or  terrified  the  people  into  ascribing 
to  him. 

"  Ah,  thou  shalt  see  me  play  soon.     I  must  let  all 

Kome  know  what  an  artist  I  am.     Ah  !     See  there,  my 

Poppaea,"  said  Nero,  pointing  to  one  of  the  tents  from 

which  a  group  of  ladies  waved  rose-garlanded  wine- 

26 


NERO 

cups,  "  they  beckon  me.  I  will  go  to  them.  Order  the 
rowers  to  take  me  thither,  my  Tigellinus." 

This  was  done,  and  Nero  landed  and  strutted  to  the 
tent,  where  the  women  fell  upon  their  knees  before 
him,  as  they  proffered  him  the  richest  wines  in  ex- 
quisitely-wrought cups  of  bejewelled  gold. 

Marcus  took  the  opportunity  of  Nero's  momentary 
absence  to  beg  Poppaea  to  excuse  his  departure  and 
explain  to  Caesar,  should  his  defection  be  noticed,  that 
some  important  duty  had  escaped  his  memory  and  he 
had  departed  to  perform  it.  Poppaea,  thinking  that  of 
the  two  evils  his  absence  would  be  the  less,  consented, 
and  Marcus  eagerly  and  swiftly  strode  from  a  scene 
that  wearied  and  disgusted  him. 

If  the  profligacy  was  great  in  the  open  day,  when 
night  fell  it  became  hideous.  Caesar  revelled  in  licen- 
tious scenes ;  nothing  was  too  degrading  for  him,  and 
on  this  night  nothing  was  left  undone  to  pander  to  his 
distorted  appetite.  Women  vied  with  men  and  with 
each  other  in  degrading  themselves  for  his  amusement. 
It  was  as  though  hell  had  emptied  itself  of  all  its  pollu- 
tion to  help  to  make  this  filthy  lioman  holiday. 

Within  a  stone's-throw  of  these  awful  scenes  a  little 
band  of  Christians,  led  by  Favius,  were  locked  within 
a  disused  granary,  praying  for  their  enemies  and  glori- 
fying their  Master.  Verily,  a  new  force  for  good  was 
wanted  in  such  a  world,  and  it  had  come  in  the  teach- 
ing of  the  lowly  Nazarene  and  His  faithful  disciples 
and  followers. 


27 


CHAPTER    IV 

MELOS 

THE  home  of  Mercia  presented  a  great  contrast  to 
that  of  Marcus.  Simplicity  took  the  place  of  luxury, 
and  quiet  comfort  that  of  magnificence  and  display.  In- 
Btead  of  crowds  of  idle,  chattering,  worldly  patricians, 
there  were  a  few  sedate,  dignified  friends,  and  the 
multitudes  of  slaves  were  represented  by  a  few  freed 
men  and  women,  —  themselves  Christians,  —  orderly, 
methodical,  and  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  house- 
hold they  served.  Lucius  and  Galata,  their  master  and 
mistress,  they  loved  and  reverenced,  but  Mercia  they 
idolised.  Her  every  word  was  treasured,  her  every 
action  lovingly  discussed,  her  wishes  anticipated.  It 
was  happiness  to  serve  her,  a  joy  to  be  commended  by 
her.  Her  sweet  cheerfulness,  her  quick  sympathy,  her 
constant  care  for  their  smallest  wants,  her  knowledge 
by  intuition  of  their  feelings  and  wishes,  made  them  feel 
that  she  was,  as  it  were,  the  guardian  angel  of  their 
welfare.  To  her  all  their  troubles  and  pleasures  were 
confided,  and  into  them  all  did  Mercia  enter  with  a 
wisdom  and  appreciation  wonderful  in  one  so  young. 
Her  circle  of  friends  and  acquaintances  being  small, 
and  her  soul  and  sympathies  being  large,  with  much  to 
bestow  and  but  few  to  receive,  those  who  did  need  sym- 
pathy and  consolation  received  it  in  bounteous  plenty. 
Little  wonder  that  she  was  beloved. 
28 


MELOS 

Her  special  attendant  was  a  girl  named  Decima,  who 
cherished  for  Mercia  a  dog-like  devotion  that  carried 
with  it  a  dog-like  jealousy,  although  she  seldom  showed 
it.  One  more  kind  word  or  caress  to  another  than  she 
received  herself  was  as  the  slash  of  a  knife  to  her,  but 
her  devotion  to  her  young  mistress  was  absolute. 

Mercia  was  at  work  at  her  loom  in  the  atrium, 
which  was  at  once  the  reception  and  work  room  of  the 
family.  It  was  plainly,  though  not  poorly,  furnished, 
and  was  brightened  by  flowers,  palms,  and  evergreens. 
Mercia's  lute  and  tarn  I  tour- frame  were  on  the  stone 
bench,  resting  on  a  cushion  covered  with  embroidery- 
wrought  by  her  own  fair  hands. 

Mercia  was  busily  spinning,  humming  the  while  softly 
to  herself  the  refrain  of  a  Christian  hymn  that  she  was 
committing  to  memory  (ihe  metre  and  time  of  which 
would  not  harmonize  with  the  tap-tap  of  a  sculptor's 
hammer  chiselling  out  the  base  of  yet  another  statue 
to  Nero  across  the  road),  when  Decima  entered,  an- 
nouncing Melos. 

Melos  was  now  a  handsome,  well-proportioned  young 
man.  Mercia  esteemed  him  highly — indeed  felt  for 
him  the  tender  affection  of  a  devoted  sister.  Melos 
was  a  youth  of  many  excellent  qualities.  From  Favius, 
who  had  been  his  teacher  as  well  as  Mercia's,  he  had 
imbibed  a  simplicity  and  strength  of  faith  in  the  doc- 
trines of  Christ  that  nothing  could  ever  take  away. 
His  days  were  spent  in  the  service  of  one  of  Kome's 
most  distinguished  architects,  who  was  at  once  his 
employer  and  professional  tutor,  and  with  whom  he 
lived.  His  evenings  he  devoted  to  the  study  of  his  pro- 
29 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

fession  and  the  meetings,  discussions,  and  prayers  of 
the  Christians. 

On  his  entrance,  Mercia  rose  to  meet  him  with  a 
warmth  and  tenderness  that  sent  a  swift  rush  of  blood 
to  his  forehead  and  a  pleasurable  thrill  to  his  heart. 

"  Welcome,  Melos,"  said  Mercia,  in  her  sweet,  low 
tones.  "  This  is  unexpected.  What  hath  brought  thee 
hither  so  early  in  the  day  ?" 

Melos  paused  a  moment  before  answering. 

"I  have  obtained  special  leave  for  an  hour  to  confer 
with  thee,  Mercia,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  with  such 
deep  earnestness  that  Mercia  wondered  what  could  be 
the  purport  of  this  most  unusual  visit.  Now  she  re- 
membered that  her  mother  had  desired  her  not  to 
venture  out  at  this  hour.  Why  was  this?  Mercia 
knew  not — but  Melos  did.  He  had,  the  evening  before, 
confessed  his  love  for  Mercia  to  her  parents,  and  they 
had  joyfully  consented  to  his  speaking  to  her,  for  they 
held  him  in  most  affectionate  esteem  ;  and  this  visit  was 
arranged  to  give  him  the  opportunity  of  avowing  his 
love  to  Mercia. 

"To  confer  with  me?  On  what  matter,  Melos?" 
Mercia  asked. 

Melos  was  silent.  The  happiness  of  his  life  hung 
upon  the  next  few  moments,  and  the  words  carefully 
thought  over  and  prepared  had  left  him.  A  tame  linnet 
twittered  from  bar  to  bar  in  an  open  cage,  and  the  tap- 
tap  of  the  mason's  hammer  and  chisel  in  the  street 
sounded  in  his  ears  with  a  distinctness  that  he  never 
forgot  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

His  silence  lasted  so  long  that  a  premonition  of  some 
30 


MELOS 

coming  evil  smote  Mercia's  mind,  and,  with  a  swift 
movement  of  inquiring  fear,  she  placed  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and,  looking  intently  at  him,  said — 

"Melos,  no  evil  hath  befallen  thee?" 

"  Ah,  no,"  he  answered,  throbbing  under  her  touch. 
"  Indeed,  I  should  be  passing  happy  to-day." 

"Should  be,  Melos  ?     And  are  you  not?" 

"  I  scarce  know,  Mercia ;  I  am  happy  to  be  here  with 
thee,  but" — and  again  Melos  hesitated. 

"  But  what,  my  friend  ?  Come,  sit  with  me  here  and 
tell  me  what  stands  between  thee  and  happiness." 
And  Mercia  moved  with  him  to  the  stone  seat,  and  sat 
beside  him. 

"  One  word,  Mercia,  no  more — one  word  from  thee." 

Had  Mercia  been  less  innocent,  had  any  real  love 
touched  her  heart,  she  could  not  have  failed  to  under- 
stand what  Melos  meant ;  but  no  thought  of  the  love 
of  man  for  woman  had  ever  crossed  her  mind.  Her 
face  looked  troubled  at  his  reply,  but  her  eyes  met  his 
with  the  gaze  of  an  affectionate  child,  and  a  dull  sense 
of  coming  disappointment  crept  over  him.  What  use 
to  question  further  ?  Was  he  not  already  answered  ? 
There  was,  he  knew,  no  vestige  of  guile  in  Mercia's 
nature.  And  yet,  might  he  not  be  mistaken  ?  It 
might  be  possible  that  her  calm,  clear  spirit  had  long 
understood  his  feeling  for  her,  and  only  waited  his  word 
to  yield  herself  up  to  him.  In  any  case  he  could  not 
bear  the  suspense.  He  must  know. 

"  What  word  of  mine  that  will  give  happiness  to  my 
friend  can  remain  unspoken  a  single  moment?"  asked 
Mercia. 

31 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

And  then  love  spoke.  The  words  came  readily 
enough  now. 

"  Mercia,  that  little  word  which  will  bind  thee  to  me 
for  ever — that  thou  lovest  me  as  I  love  thee,  with  a 
love  that  knows  no  limits  but  the  grave  and  His  com- 
mandments,— the  love  of  a  wife  for  a  husband  who 
worships  her  next  to  his  faith." 

Mercia  stood  silent,  and  her  beautiful  face,  the 
mirror  of  her  pure  soul,  quivered  with  the  emotions 
that  swept  over  it.  Surprise,  regret,  pity — all  wei*e  in 
her  looks,  but,  alas  for  Melos,  not  one  trace  of  love. 
She  had  risen  from  the  seat  and  was  looking  away 
from  him.  With  a  half-sigh,  half  sob,  she  murmured — 

"  How  pitiful !     How  grieved  I  am !" 

"  Grieved  for  what,  Mercia  ?" 

"  For  the  friendship  that  is  fled,"  she  replied ;  "  I 
never  thought  or  dreamed  of  this." 

"  But  thou  wilt  think  of  it,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  have 
startled  thee  in  my  haste — forgive  me — I  had  thought 
and  conned  so  many  things  to  prepare  thee  for  what 
I  have  said  so  blunderingly  and  roughly ;  but  one  sight 
of  thy  sweet  face,  one  touch  of  thy  dear  hand,  and  all 
was  forgotten.  Forgive  me,  Mercia,"  he  pleaded. 

Two  glistening  crystal  drops  hung  on  Mercia's  eye- 
lashes, and  her  voice  trembled  as  she  answered — 

"Melos,  there  is  naught  to  forgive  in  thee,  but,  I 
fear,  much  to  pardon  in  me.  I  must  have  been  to 
blame." 

"  Blame  ?    How,  sweet  Mercia  ?" 

"Something  in  my  conduct,  my  manner  towards 
thee,  must  have  given  thee  cause  and  warrant  for  this 

32 


MELOS 

avowal ;  but  indeed  and  indeed  it  was  all  unconscious. 
Thou  didst  ever  seem  to  me  so  close  a  friend,  so  dear  a 
brother,  that,  having  no  brother  in  blood,  I  looked 

upon  thee  as  such.  And  now — now "  and  Mercia 

sank  back  upon  the  seat  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  to  hide  the  hot,  welling  stream  of  tears  that 
flooded  her  eyes. 

Poor  Melos.  He  knew  now.  Friendship  and  pity — 
but  a  pity  that  was  hopeless  and  far  removed  from  love 
— were  all  that  could  ever  be  his  share  of  the  beautiful 
nature  he  thought  he  had  known  so  well. 

"  I  understand,  Mercia.  Let  it  not  grieve  thee. 
The  heart  is  not  as  the  wheel  of  thy  distaff,  to  be 
moved  at  a  touch,  as  the  will  dictates.  I  was  pre- 
sumptuous— love  is  ever  so.  Thou  art  so  far  above 
me — so  much  nearer  His  throne  than  I,  that " 

"  Hush,  hush,  dear  Melos !  Make  not  my  regret — 
my  abasement — more  deep,  more  hard  to  bear.  I  did 
not  know.  Thou  art  so  worthy,  and,  next  to  my  loved 
father  and  my  dear  Favius,  thou  art  the  most  es- 
teemed ;  but  this  other  feeling — this  love,  as  thou  dost 
call  it — it  terrifies  me.  I  know  it  not,  seek  it  not — can 
never  know  it,  never  seek  it.  It — not  thou,  dear  Melos 
— is  abhorrent  to  me.  Ah,  forget  it,  forget  it !" 

Thus  Mercia,  at  the  first  shock  of  contact  with  an 
earthly  love,  spoke  in  her  innocence  of  that  passion 
which  was  to  come  to  her  all  too  soon — to  her  wonder- 
ment and  pain ;  but  he  who  was  to  create  and  bring  it 
into  life  was  not  the  honest,  God-fearinsr  man  who 
listened  with  sinking  heart  to  her  words. 

"  Forget  it  ?"  said  Melos  sadly.     "  No,  Mercia,  that  I 

3  33 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

cannot  do  while  memory  lives.  This  love  of  mine  is  no 
mere  thing  of  yesterday ;  it  is  a  part  of  all  my  life.  If 
I  had  a  mean  or  despicable  thought,  thy  sweet  memory 
shamed  it  into  oblivion;  if  a  worldly  ambition,  thy 
bright  image  shaped  it  worthily.  I — I  have  known  no 
thought  that  was  not  chastened  and  made  pure  and 
sweet  by  thee.  All  toil  was  for  thee,  all — all.  And 

now "  And  Melos  turned  away,  his  grief  and 

bitter  disappointment  choking  him. 

Neither  could  find  words  for  a  few  moments.  Mer- 
cia's  heart  was  aching  with  pity  and  regret,  but  she 
felt  that  no  more  could  be  said  by  her.  Melos  knew 
nothing  he  could  say  would  help  his  helpless  cause, 
and  yet  he  dreaded  to  tear  himself  away  to  face  the 
busy  world  once  more,  that  world  that  a  few  hours — a 
few  moments — ago  seemed  all  so  fair,  now  clouded  and 
dulled  to  him  forever. 

With  a  great  effort  he  drew  himself  towards  Mercia, 
and  taking  her  hand  gently,  he  bowed  over  it  with  a 
reverence  that  honoured  both  his  nature  and  hers; 
and,  with  a  low-murmured  "  Farewell,  Mercia !"  he 
was  gone. 

Mercia,  with  her  face  buried  in  the  soft  cushion, 
sobbed  softly  to  herself.  The  pet  linnet  had  flown 
across  to  the  corner  of  the  couch,  and,  with  head 
aslant,  was  gravely  watching  her. 


CHAPTER   V 

MEKCIA'S  SORROW 

FOR  some  few  days  Mercia  saw  nothing  of  Melos. 
He  wisely  refrained  from  obtruding  himself  upon  her 
in  her  father's  house,  and  at  the  meetings,  her  parents, 
who  had  learned  of  her  rejection  of  his  suit,  out  of 
pity  for  Melos.  kept  the  two  young  people  apart. 
Mercia's  sweet  disposition  could  not  but  suffer  under 
the  thought  of  so  much  grief  occasioning  to  Melos,  for 
his  altered  manner,  his  pale  face,  and  the  hopeless  look 
of  pain  in  his  eyes  told  her,  what  his  manliness  pre- 
vented him  from  saying  in  words,  that  his  grief  was 
deep  and  sincere.  This  was  a  sorrow  to  Mercia;  but  a 
still  more  poignant  one  was  to  come — a  sorrow  that 
abided  with  her,  a  grief  destined  to  change  the  whole 
course  of  her  life.  A  terrible  disaster  was  to  occur  to 
Eome,  in  the  great  fire  which  took  place  in  the  tenth 
year  of  Nero's  reign.  That  this  fire  was  the  work  of 
Nero  there  can  be  little  doubt ;  the  historians  agree  in 
imputing  the  blame  to  him.  What  inspired  him  to 
commit  this  crime  will  never  be  known.  It  might 
have  been  done  in  revenge  for  some  real  or  fancied 
slight  on  the  part  of  the  nobles  towards  himself;  from 
a  desire  still  further  to  terrify  and  subjugate  the  hap- 
less populace ;  to  gratify  his  insatiable  lust  for  cruelty ; 
or  from  the  cynical  desire  to  enjoy  some  new  experi- 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

«nce.  Someone  repeated  in  his  hearing  his  own  say- 
ing, "  When  I  am  dead  let  the  whole  world  burn"  ;  and 
he  had  replied,  "No,  let  it  burn  while  I  am  living." 

Mercia  was  sitting  at  home  one  evening  with  her 
parents  and  Favius,  when  suddenly  there  was  heard  a 
great  rush  of  chariots  passing  the  house  and  a  loud  con- 
fused roar  in  the  distance.  Eunning  to  the  portals  to 
learn  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  Lucius  beheld  a 
great  glare  of  flame  in  the  direction  of  the  circus. 
Kealising  that  a  conflagration  of  more  than  ordinary 
importance  was  raging,  Lucius  called  to  Favius  to 
come  to  him. 

"  What  is  it,  friend  ?"  asked  Favius,  in  calm,  dignified 
tones. 

"  Surely  a  terrible  fire  is  there.  Look !  Is  not  that 
by  the  Mount  Palatine  ?" 

"Ay,  it  is  in  the  circus." 

Just  then  there  was  a  dull  roaring  heard,  and  the 
flames  shot  up  into  the  air,  while  myriads  of  sparks 
were  showered  in  every  direction. 

"Some  large  building  has  fallen  in,"  said  Mercia, 
who,  with  her  mother,  had  joined  the  group  at  the 
door.  At  this  moment  a  troop  of  mounted  soldiers 
dashed  past  at  full  gallop,  hotly  followed  by  a  dense 
crowd  of  running  men,  horsemen  and  charioteers,  all 
crying  aloud — 

"  Fire !  fire !     Home  is  on  fire !" 

Even  as  they  watched,  the  flames  not  only  increased 
in  volume,  but  fresh  fire  seemed  to  start  up  in  several 
places  at  once. 

"This  is  no  accident,  brother  Lucius,"  said  Favius 

36 


MERCIA'S  SORROW 

hurriedly,  but  with  great  decision ;  "  this  is  design. 
There  are  new  horrors  abroad.  Give  me  my  toga — this 
is  no  time  for  quiet  converse,  but  for  action.  Yonder 
is  danger,  terror,  bloodshed,  death,  and  my  place  is 
there.  I  must  go." 

"  Yea,  good  Favius,  but  not  alone,"  gravely  replied 
Lucius ;  "  I  will  go  with  thee." 

"  Good !  Let  us  waste  no  time ;  each  moment  may 
mean  a  life  sped,  a  soul  lost." 

"Husband,  I  must  go  with  thee,"  said  Galata. 
"  Quick,  Mercia !  all  the  linen  that  will  serve  for  band- 
ages !  Decima,  a  skin  of  wine !  Haste,  haste !" 

"And  I  too,  mother;  may  not  I  also  help?"  asked 
Mercia. 

"No,  no,  child;  no!"  firmly  answered  her  father. 
"  That  cannot  be.  The  house  must  not  be  left  empty ; 
neither  are  the  streets  at  such  a  time  a  fitting  place  for 
thee.  It  may  be  that  we  may  send  some  poor  wounded 
and  distressed  ones  back  here — be  thine  the  work  to 
tend  and  succour  them.  May  He  protect  and  guard 
thee !" 

With  a  tender  embrace,  her  parents  and  Favius  left 
her,  and,  bearing  the  wine  and  bandages,  hurried  off  in 
the  direction  of  the  flames.  Fast  as  they  travelled,  the 
fire  outstripped  their  speed  in  its  seeming  haste  to  meet 
them.  The  narrow  streets  and  the  inflammable  materials 
of  which  the  buildings  were  composed  seemed  to  be 
hungrily  licked  up  by  the  raging  flames;  they  tore 
down  the  passages  and,  fanned  by  the  wind,  seemed 
to  drive  straight  through  the  houses  as  the  flame  from 
the  alchemist's  blow-pipe  pierces  the  precious  metals. 

37 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

The  heat  was  intense,  the  smoke  blinding.  Into  the 
dense  throng  of  men,  women,  and  children,  the  three 
brave  souls  fought  their  way.  There  was  no  lack  of 
work  for  their  willing  hands.  Those  of  the  mob  who 
were  not  frantically  fleeing  for  their  lives  stood  helpless 
and  dazed.  Here  stood  a  poor  mother,  with  one  wailing 
child  in  her  arms,  staring  and  screaming  that  her  other 
little  ones  were  still  in  the  tottering  home.  Without 
one  thought  of  self,  Favius  and  Lucius  rushed  into  the 
house,  and  emerged,  scorched  and  blackened,  with  two 
children,  senseless  with  the  smoke,  and,  placing  them 
in  their  mother's  charge,  they  pursued  their  noble  task. 
Favius,  especially,  worked  like  a  giant ;  his  tall, 
majestic  figure,  his  flowing  white  hair  and  beard,  stood 
out  against  the  background  of  fire  and  smoke  like  that 
of  some  rescuing  deity.  Never  for  a  moment  flurried, 
nor  for  an  instant  dismayed,  no  matter  what  the  peril, 
he  seemed  to  see  everything  and  be  upon  the  instant 
just  where  he  could  render  the  greatest  service. 

The  noise  and  heat  were  deafening  and  suffocating. 
Men,  women,  and  children,  burnt,  scorched,  battered 
with  falling  masonry  and  timber,  were  lying  helpless 
and  groaning  in  every  direction.  Galata's  meagre  store 
of  wine  was  soon  exhausted,  and  water  could  not  be 
found.  All  the  linen  she  had  brought  for  bandages 
was  used  up ;  she  tore  her  own  and  her  husband's 
draperies  to  shreds  for  more  to  bind  up  the  wounds  of 
the  sufferers. 

For  hours  these  brave  ones  battled  with  flame,  smoke, 
pain,  despair,  madness,  and  death  in  their  efforts  to  help 
those  who  were  either  too  severely  injured  or  too  stupe- 
38 


MERCIA'S  SORROW 

fied  with  terror  to  help  themselves.  Even  as  they 
toiled,  Death  overshadowed  them,  and  often  they  could 
almost  hear  the  beat  of  his  wings.  The  wall  of  a  house 
quivered,  shook,  and  fell  crashing  outwards,  covering 
them  with  its  dust,  and  leaving  barely  three  feet  be- 
tween it  and  their  devoted  lives. 

The  confusion  caused  by  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
flames  spread  was  terrible.  But  little  effort  was  made 
to  check  the  progress  of  the  fire,  and  that  little  was 
frustrated  by  bands  of  men  who  threatened  and  attacked 
those  who  attempted  it.  In  their  grief  and  madness  at 
seeing  their  homes  destroyed  and  their  loved  ones 
perish,  many  threw  themselves  voluntarily  into  the 
blazing  buildings,  preferring  death  to  life  without  the 
dear  ones  who  had  been  taken  from  them. 

Mercia,  at  home,  was  racked  with  anxiety  and  fear 
for  her  parents'  safety,  and,  finding  the  suspense  at  last 
unbearable,  she  seized  her  mantle  and  rushed  into  the 
streets.  The  hurrying  crowds,  in  their  wild  rushes  for 
safety,  beat  and  hustled  her  hither  and  thither.  Bruised 
and  bleeding,  the  poor  girl  dragged  herself  from  place 
to  place;  the  streets  were  no  longer  recognisable — 
where  once  a  palace  stood  there  was  naught  but  a  heap 
of  smoking  ruins.  The  selfishness  of  despair  seemed 
upon  all  the  people ;  no  answers  were  made  to  her 
questions,  no  heed  paid  to  her  entreaties.  Her  agony 
of  mind  was  pitiable ;  she  had  lost  all  knowledge  of 
her  whereabouts,  and  now,  anxious  to  go  back  to  her 
home,  with  a  faint  hope  that  her  parents  might  have 
returned  in  her  absence,  she  was  unable  to  do  so. 

She  was  burning  with  fever  and  parched  with  thirst ; 

39 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

her  limbs  failed  her,  but  even  in  the  last  moment  of 
consciousness  and  failing  strength  she  saw  a  woman 
falling  senseless  just  where  a  tottering  wall  must  surely 
crash  down  upon  her.  With  a  last  effort  she  rushed 
forward  and  dragged  the  helpless  woman  out  of  the 
danger,  only  to  be  struck  by  a  falling  beam  herself, 
and  to  be  flung  to  the  earth  stunned,  bleeding,  and  un- 
conscious. Some  soldier,  more  pitiful  than  his  fellows 
dragged  her  into  the  shelter  of  a  ruined  doorway,  and 
there  left  her ;  and  there,  when  the  dawn  of  day  came, 
Favius  and  Melos  found  her,  still  insensible. 

Using  a  shattered  door  as  a  litter,  these  two  faithful 
souls  bore  her  to  the  house  of  Favius,  and  tended  her 
back  to  life  and  to  the  knowledge  that,  save  for  them- 
selves, she  was  alone  and  friendless  in  the  world ;  for,  in 
saving  the  lives  of  others,  her  father  and  mother  had 
laid  down  their  own. 


40 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE   PERSECUTIONS 

FOR  six  days  and  nights  the  fire  raged  with  undimin- 
ished  violence  and  fury.  The  helpless  citizens  were 
driven  to  the  fields  to  escape  its  ravages,  where,  home- 
less and  starving,  they  bemoaned  the  losses  of  friends 
and  property.  During  this  time  of  horror  it  was  said 
that  Nero,  on  the  roof  of  his  palace,  calmly  watched 
the  progress  of  the  flames,  and,  dressed  in  fantastical 
stage  costume,  sang  an  ode  of  his  own,  commemorating 
the  destruction  of  Troy,  to  the  twanging  of  his  lute, — 
thus  assimilating  the  two  catastrophes. 

Learning  that  suspicion  was  pointing  to  him  as  the 
author  of  the  disaster,  Nero  at  once  set  to  work  to 
conciliate  the  people.  He  caused  the  field  of  Mars, 
the  monumental  buildings  erected  by  Agrippa,  and  his 
own  gardens  to  be  opened  to  shelter  the  homeless 
people.  Eventually  he  stopped  the  conflagration,  after 
it  had  destroyed  ten  of  the  fourteen  sections  of  Rome. 
Then  he  started  rebuilding  the  city,  erecting  for  him- 
self a  palace  the  magnificence  of  which  was  beyond 
description.  Gold,  silver,  and  costly  gems  were  lavishly 
used  in  the  decorations,  and  the  most  exquisite  statuary 
that  Greece  could  furnish  adorned  its  courts  and  pas- 
sages. The  gardens  were  of  vast  size  and  beauty,  and 
contained  many  large  and  picturesque  lakes.  This 
"  Golden  Palace"  had  long  been  a  dream  of  Nero's,  and 

41 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

it  was  now  realised  by  the  blood  and  property  of  those 
unfortunates  who  were  killed  by  the  fire  and  whose 
estates  he  confiscated. 

Public  suspicion  began  to  grow  to  popular  fury,  and 
Nero,  to  divert  the  rage  of  the  sufferers,  fixed  the  crime 
of  the  burning  of  the  city  upon  the  Christians.  These 
were  accused  wholesale,  and,  under  the  flimsiest  pre- 
texts, were  put  to  the  most  horrible  tortures  to  induce 
them  to  confess  their  guilt,  in  order  that  Nero  might 
free  himself.  Practically  he  ordered  a  war  of  extermi- 
nation. He  spared  no  one — the  whole  accursed  race  of 
the  Christians  was  to  die.  Some  were  given  to  the  wild 
beasts  in  the  arena ;  some  crucified  in  horrible  mockery 
of  the  death  of  the  Eedeemer ;  of  others  Nero  made 
torches;  wrapping  round  their  bodies  tow  soaked  in  oil 
and  turpentine,  he  caused  them  to  be  chained  to  stakes, 
and  quietly  watched  their  dying  agonies. 

No  defence  was  accepted  ;  the  mere  accusation  of  an 
informer  or  a  spy  was  enough  ;  the  hapless  accused  was 
haled  off  to  the  cells,  and.  with  or  without  the  formality 
of  a  mock  trial,  was  tortured  or  put  to  death.  The 
Christians  not  only  remained  faithful  to  their  Lord  and 
Master  under  such  trials,  but  went  to  their  horrible 
deaths  with  a  calmness  and  firmness  that  at  once 
astounded  and  exasperated  Csesar. 

Mercia  had  been  quietly  living  in  a  small  house  in  a 
retired  portion  of  the  city  with  her  faithful  servant, 
stirring  abroad  but  seldom,  and  then  only  to  visit  the 
sick  or  her  guardian  Favius.  Still  true  to  her  faith,  she 
was  at  all  times  exposed  to  the  most  deadly  peril.  Her 
youth,  her  strange  charm,  her  unusual  beaut}'- — all 
42 


THE   PERSECUTIONS 

were  so  many  dangers  that  opened  traps  and  pitfalls  for 
her  at  every  footstep.  As  yet  no  direct  charge  had 
been  made  against  either  her  or  Favius,  but  an  acci- 
dent was  to  start  the  suspicion  all  too  soon. 

One  afternoon,  shortly  before  sunset,  two  men  were 
seated  on  the  steps  of  a  house  in  Borne.  The  house  was 
handsome  ;  the  portico  and  steps  were  garlanded  with 
roses  ;  the  street  was  a  short  one  leading  from  the  main 
thoroughfare  to  the  quay  bordering  the  Tiber.  Above 
the  solid  stone  embankment  of  the  bridge  lay  a  striking 
view  of  the  river  and  the  palaces  beyond.  The  two 
men  were  of  the  poorest  class,  dirty,  ragged,  and  un- 
kempt. One,  who  was  called  Servilius,  was  almost 
wolf-like  in  appearance— a  resemblance  he  heightened 
by  a  badly-cured  skin  of  one  of  those  animals,  which 
he  wore  as  a  half  shoulder  cloak.  The  other  man  was 
taller  than  his  companion,  with  a  more  stupidly  brutal 
expression  of  face,  though  cunning  and  vindictiveness 
were  the  common  features  of  both.  They  were  ap- 
parently intent  upon  a  game  of  dice,  but,  as  they  rat- 
tled them  in  their  hands  and  threw  them,  with  loud 
comments,  upon  the  marble  steps,  it  was  obvious  to  an 
observer  that  their  interest  in  the  game  was  not  so 
great  but  that,  from  time  to  time,  each  was  casting 
furtive  glances  on  all  that  passed  around  him.  There 
was  much  to  interest  them,  for  the  street,  though  not 
thronged,  was  busy.  Porters  bore  their  burdens  from 
the  landings  a  little  distance  off;  women  of  the  middle 
class  were  on  their  road  to  purchase  their  provisions 
for  the  morrow ;  flower-sellers  and,  of  course,  a  swarm 
of  beggars ;  men  hurrying  from  business,  and  the 

43 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

variety  of  loiterers  usually  to  be  met  in  any  part  of  a 
great  city.  From  the  turning  opposite  the  men,  a  small 
party  of  soldiers  and  a  minor  officer  crossed  the  road, 
guarding  a  man  somewhat  advanced  in  years.  The 
prisoner's  hands  were  tightly  bound  to  a  heavy  triangle 
of  wood  passed  over  his  head  and  fastened  there  by  an 
iron  lock.  The  man  looked  ill,  worn,  and  feeble.  Im- 
patient at  the  slow  progress  he  was  making,  one  of  the 
guards  struck  the  poor  wretch  so  violent  a  blow  that 
he  staggered  and  fell.  Eudely  and  brutally  dragging 
him  to  his  feet  again,  with  an  oath  and  another  cruel 
blow,  the  soldier  pushed  the  prisoner  onward.  A  woman 
following  the  party  and  holding  by  the  hand  a  little 
girl  of  five  or  six  years  of  age,  who  was  loudly  sob- 
bing, seeing  the  brutality  of  the  soldier,  made  a  pite- 
ous gesture  of  entreaty  to  spare  the  man ;  but  her 
only  answer  was  a  rude  and  violent  push  and  a  curse. 
The  poor  soul  staggered  back,  terrified ;  the  guards 
passed  out  of  sight  with  their  prisoner,  the  helpless 
wife  and  child,  with  streaming  eyes,  disappearing  in 
their  wake. 

"  That  was  a  hard  knock,  my  Servilius,"  said  the 
taller  of  the  two  spies  (for  such  was  the  occupation  of 
these  ruffians). 

"  Well,  what  matters  ?"  replied  the  other ;  "  it  was 
only  a  dog  of  a  Christian." 

"  Oh  !"  grunted  his  mate ;  and  with  that  grunt  what 
little  sympathy  he  had  felt  departed. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Servilius,  "  I  have  been  watching 
him  for  weeks,  but  Caius  got  hold  of  him,  and  I  lost 
Nero's  reward  of  two  hundred  sesterces." 

44 


THE  PERSECUTIONS 

"Christian-hunting  pays  well,  then,  eh?" 

"Yes,  my  Strabo,  it  pays  well,  and  is  good  sport 
withal.  It  is  as  exciting  as  wolf-hunting,  and  has  none 
of  its  dangers,"  he  added  with  a  grim  chuckle,  "  for, 
with  all  their  child-killing  and  secret  murders,  they  are 
a  poor-spirited  lot ;  they  never  strike  back.  Ugh !  they 
are  a  cowardly  crew." 

At  this  moment  a  file  of  handsomely-dressed  and 
equipped  guards,  headed  by  a  still  more  richly-clad 
officer,  crossed  the  street.  The  two  men  looked  after 
them  with  great  admiration. 

"  That  is  Viturius,  captain  of  the  guard  to  Marcus 
Superbus,"  said  Servilius. 

"  Ah,  I  should  like  to  be  that  fellow,"  said  Strabo 
enviously. 

"  Or  Jupiter,  or  Apollo,"  sneered  Servilius.  "  As  well 
wish  to  be  a  god  as  Marcus  Superbus.  Next  to  the 
Emperor,  he  is  the  richest  man  in  Home." 

"  Ay,  and  the  luckiest,"  scowled  Strabo,  moved  by  the 
thought  of  his  own  impecuniosity.  "  It's  an  accursed 
shame  that  one  man  should  have  so  much  and  another 
nothing." 

"  Ay,  Strabo,  we're  goodly  men  enough,  but  we  haven't 
a  copper  coin  between  us,  while  Marcus  has  his  horses 
shod  with  gold.  Why,  on  the  last  banquet  he  gave  to 
Nero,  be  spent  six  million  sesterces." 

"  Whew !"  whistled  the  envious  Strabo ;  "  is  there  so 
much  money  in  all  this  hungry  world  ?" 

"  Yea,  is  there,  Strabo,"  said  Servilius,  drawing  closer 
to  his  companion  and  lowering  his  voice,  "and  some  of 
it  may  be  ours,  if  we  can  but  trap  a  Christian  or  two. 

45 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

Hush !  here  are  strangers.  Keep  your  eyes  and  ears 
open,  my  Strabo." 

The  men  to  whom  he  was  alluding  were  approaching 
from  opposite  directions.  Though  dressed  in  the  ordi- 
nary costume  of  respectable  citizens  of  the  time,  there 
was  about  them,  their  faces  and  bearing,  that  which 
would  have  attracted  the  attention  of  a  much  less  alert 
observer  than  the  spy.  The  elder  man  was  Favius,  who 
looked  as  the  prophet  Moses  might,  so  dignified  and 
majestic  was  his  carriage  and  bearing.  His  mantle 
partly  covered  his  long,  snowy  locks ;  he  held  a  staff  in 
his  hand,  but  scarcely  used  it  as  a  support ;  his  clear, 
eagle-like  eyes  swept  the  whole  street  in  once  glance. 
He  saw  and  noticed  with  a  look  of  keen  interest  the 
stranger  who  was  approaching  him.  This  man  was 
evidently  a  traveller;  his  garments  were  soiled  with 
the  dust  of  the  country  roads.  He  was  a  man  of  some 
fifty-five  years  of  age ;  he  was  sturdily  built ;  his  frame 
was  formed  for  exertion,  and  capable  of  enduring  much 
fatigue.  He,  too,  bore  a  staff,  but  it  was  more  to  accel- 
erate than  to  support  his  footsteps.  He  walked  steadily 
and  swiftly,  as  though  intent  upon  some  weighty  and 
important  mission.  On  the  faces  of  both  these  men 
there  was  an  expression  of  calm  and  peaceful  dignity 
that  contrasted  strangely  with  their  humble  at- 
tire. 

As  they  neared  each  other,  some  mutual  attraction 
induced  both  to  make  a  moment's  pause,  as  if  each 
intended  to  speak.  Neither  did  so,  however,  but  moved 
on  a  few  paces,  then  instinctively  turned,  and,  with  a 
meaning  look  in  their  eyes,  they  once  again  drew  near. 
46 


THE   PERSECUTIONS 

The  traveller  had  traced  with  his  staff  two  sim- 
ple marks  in  the  dust  of  the  road. 

"The  Sign  of  the  Cross!  Who  art  thou?"  asked 
Favius  of  the  stranger. 

"  A  fisherman  from  Galilee." 

"  How  know  you  me  ?" 

"  By  the  Master's  badge." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

The  Galilean  quietly  lifted  the  sleeve  of  Favius' 
tunic  and  then  his  own.  On  the  forearm  of  both  was 
marked  a  cross.  The  men's  hands  met  in  a  warm  and 
fervent  clasp. 

"  Thy  name  ?"  Favius  asked  of  the  stranger. 

"  Titus,"  he  answered. 

"Who  sent  thee  hither?'" 

"  Paulus  of  Tarsus,  Apostle  of  Him  they  crucified," 
replied  the  man. 

"Speak  lower,"  said  Favius,  warningly.  "Even  the 
stones  of  Rome  have  ears.  Dost  thou  tarry  here 
long?" 

"  Only  long  enough  to  give  Paulus'  message  to  the 
brethren.  Where  meet  they  to-night  ?" 

"  At  the  Grove  near  the  Cestian  Bridge,"  whispered 
Favius. 

"  At  what  hour  ?"  The  messenger's  powerful  voice 
was  also  lowered. 

"  The  tenth." 

"  How  many  ?" 

"  Hush !  Even  the  stones  have  ears,"  said  Favius, 
who  had  perceived  that  the  spies  had  silently  crept  up 
close  on  either  side  of  them. 

47 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"In  the  name  of  Caesar,  hail!"  said  Strabo,  whose 
greeting  seemed  more  threat  than  welcome. 

"  Hail,  friend,"  courteously  responded  Favius,  and, 
taking  his  friend's  arm,  he  was  about  to  go,  but  was 
stopped  by  Servilius,  who  came  swiftly  down  to  inter- 
cept him. 

"Whither  so  fast?"  queried  Servilius,  half  as  in 
good-fellowship,  half  as  in  threat,  as  his  comrade's  tone 
had  been. 

"  About  mine  own  business,  friend,"  was  the  composed 
reply. 

"  Where  dwellest  thou  ?" 

"  What  is  that  to  thee  ?" 

The  quiet  question  was  baffling.  The  spy  tried  an- 
other tack.  In  a  more  sympathetic  tone,  he  said — 

"  Thy  friend  seems  wayworn  and  weary ;  hath  he 
come  from  afar  ?" 

"  I  have  travelled  some  days,"  said  the  fisherman. 

"Thou  art  athirst,  I'll  wager,"  and  the  spy's  tone 
became  insinuating.  "  Come  with  rne ;  a  cup  of  good 
wine  from  yonder  wine-shop  will  wash  the  dust  of  the 
road  from  thy  throat." 

"  So  will  a  cup  of  good  water  from  yonder  fountain," 
was  the  grave  reply.  "  I  thank  thee  for  thy  courtesy, 
good  friend,  but  I  have  no  time  to  tarry  with  thee." 

"  Strangers  tarry  in  Home  longer  than  they  plan  to 
do  at  times,  especially  strangers  who  come  from  Galilee ; 
Nero  looks  not  with  favour  on  Galileans  or  Nazarenes. 
He  finds  rest  for  them,  however,"  sneered  Servilius. 

"I  have  heard  as  much,"  quietly  said  Paul's  mes- 
senger. 

48 


THE   PERSECUTIONS 

"Nero  may  find  rest  for  thee,"  grinned  the  spy. 

"  When  my  day's  work  is  done,  I  shall  welcome  rest 
and  peace,  whoever  sends  them,"  serenely  answered  the 
Christian. 

"  What  is  thy  work  ?" 

"  My  Master's." 

"  Whom  dost  thou  serve?" 

"The  Son  of  Man." 

And,  with  a  slight,  but  courteous,  inclination  of  the 
head,  the  Christian  laid  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of 
Favius  and  walked  away. 

For  a  moment  the  spies  remained  still,  staring  after 
the  two  dignified  men  who  had  so  quietly  baffled  them ; 
but,  recovering  himself,  Strabo  cried,  with  greed  and 
cruelty  in  his  voice, — 

" '  The  Son  of  Man '  ?    What  means  he  ?" 

"  My  Strabo,  I  smell  money  here.  Sport  and  money 
both."  Swiftly  running  to  the  spot  where  the  Christians 
had  traced  the  marks  in  the  dust,  he  hoarsely  cried,  in 
fiendish  triumph, — 

"  The  Sign  of  the  Cross !  Christians  these,  Christians ! 
Come,  good  Strabo,  follow,  follow !"  And  stealthily 
and  swiftly  they  crept  down  the  street  after  the  two 
Christians. 


CHAPTER    VII 

SOME    PATRICIANS 

THE  house  upon  the  steps  of  which  the  spies  had 
been  gambling  belonged  to  a  nobleman  named  Barcinus, 
with  whom  our  story  will  have  little  to  do ;  in  truth, 
he  was  but  a  nonentity  even  in  his  own  household, 
where  his  wife,  a  beautiful  blonde  of  some  two-and- 
twenty  summers,  held  absolute  sway.  People  who 
knew  them  both  troubled  themselves  but  little  about 
him, — especially  the  men  of  their  acquaintance, — but 
most — and  again  the  male  sex  may  be  particularly  im- 
plied— were  much  interested  in  the  doings  of  his  wife. 
And,  indeed,  that  lady  gave  her  friends  and  enemies 
plenty  to  talk  about,  even  if  she  did  at  times  cause  the 
conversation  concerning  her  doings  to  savour  more  of 
censorious  gossip  than  respectful  admiration.  If  her 
friends  took  interest  in  her  actions,  she  certainly  did 
not  fail  to  reciprocate  their  concern  for  her.  What 
Dacia,  for  that  was  the  lady's  name,  did  not  know  of 
the  doings  of  the  rank  and  fashion  of  Eome  was  cer- 
tainly not  worth  the  knowing — at  least,  to  her.  She 
was  a  witty,  clever,  careless,  thoughtless  butterfly  of  a 
creature,  utterly  incapable  of  any  deep  feeling  even  for 
herself,  but  not  ill-natured  at  heart  (if  such  a  thing  was 
included  in  her  composition),  but  with  a  tongue  that 
would  do  more  mischief  in  a  day  than  it  could  undo  in 
a  year. 

50 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

In  spite  of  this  little  weakness,  the  "  fair  Dacia,"  as 
she  was  called,  was  much  admired  and  sought  after, 
and  no  fashionable  gathering  was  considered  complete 
without  her.  Exceedingly  pretty  and  good  tempered, 
ready  of  speech  and  not  too  squeamish  in  her  choice  of 
topics,  or  mode  of  dealing  with  them,  she  was  a  con- 
tinual source  of  amusement  to  the  golden  youth  with 
whom  she,  for  choice,  passed  most  of  her  time.  Her 
husband,  good,  easy  man,  troubled  himself  but  little 
about  his  wife's  affairs,  save  when  he  was  called  upon 
to  pay  her  bills,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  not  even  then, 
save  when  they  were  more  than  exceptionally  heavy, 
or  he  was  more  than  usually  pressed  for  money.  On 
these  occasions  he  would,  for  a  moment,  lose  his  temper, 
which  moved  the  fair  Dacia  not  a  tittle ;  she  would 
laugh  at  her  lord  and  master  until  he  either  paid  the 
bill  or  left  the  house.  Then  the  lady  would  scurry  off 
to  one  of  her  many  gossips,  or  send  for  one  of  her 
equally  numerous  admirers,  and  extract  either  sym- 
pathy from  the  one  or  gold  from  the  other.  Among 
her  crowd  of  adorers  none  was  more  pliable  or  pecuni- 
arily squeezable  than  Philodemus,  an  effeminate  young 
nobleman  possessed  of  an  exceedingly  empty  head  and 
a  very  plethoric  purse.  This  elegantly-garbed  and 
sweetly-perfumed  fledgling  had  neither  the  wit,  heart, 
nor  manliness  to  feel  a  real  passion  (even  a  distorted 
one)  for  Dacia  or  any  other  woman,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  it  was  necessary  to  his  dignity  to  have  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  irresistible  and  invincible  among  women, 
and,  as  he  could  pay  handsomely  for  such  notoriety, 
many  of  the  fair  creatures  indulged  him  in  his  weak- 

51 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

ness.  Never  exacting,  and  quite  content  to  go  when 
he  was  likely  to  stand  in  the  way  of  a  more  exigent 
lover,  he  was  as  useful  an  appanage  to  her  suite  as  any 
fine  lady  could  hope  for  or  desire. 

On  this  particular  afternoon,  at  an  hour  bordering 
on  sunset,  Philodemus  brought  to  Dacia's  house  a  band 
of  singers.  They  were  richly  dressed,  and  garlanded 
with  roses.  Halting  in  front  of  Dachi's  door,  they  sang 
the  following  verses,  accompanied  by  musicians  with 
lutes,  citharas,  and  pipes: — 

"  What  is  life  where  love  is  not  ? 

A  sunless  world. 
Life  is  love  itself  begot. 
Then  love  and  live. 

"  Life  is  love — and  love  is  fire, 
Those  who  love  not  live  in  vain. 
Life  is  but  one  long  desire  ; 
Either  love  or  die  in  pain. 
Then  love  and  live. 

While  this  song  was  being  sung  a  young  and  ex- 
quisitely graceful  girl,  lightly  clad  in  rich  sky-blue  silk, 
danced  airily  in  front  of  the  steps  of  the  house,  scatter- 
ing roses  over  them.  The  sound  of  music  brought 
Dacia  out  of  the  portico.  "With  her  came  two  richly- 
robed  slave-girls,  who  spread  cushions  upon  the  seats, 
and  embroidered  draperies  upon  the  balcony.  Dacia 
was  beautifully  dressed  in  soft,  close-clinging  silk,  which 
accentuated  rather  than  concealed  the  lines  of  her 
handsome  figure.  The  richest  jewels  sparkled  in  her 
hair,  and  over  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  She  was  laugh- 
52 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

ing  merrily  at  some  jest  with  her  attendants,  and  her 
eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  at  the  ceremony  arranged 
in  her  honour. 

"Looking  at  the  singers,  she  said — 

"Well  sung!  Who  are  your  masters?  Oh,  I  see! 
Philodemus  and  Glabrio!"  she  added,  as  these  two 
individuals  came  forward. 

Philodemus  was  robed  in  a  pale-yellow  silk  tunic  and 
toga,  heavily  trimmed  with  gold  and  jewels.  His  face 
was  worn,  his  frame  slight,  his  manner  effeminate  in 
the  extreme ;  he  had  a  slight  lisp,  rolling,  vacant  eyes, 
and  a  languid,  listless  air  that  betokened  weakness — 
physical  as  well  as  mental.  His  companion,  Glabrio, 
was  a  great  contrast  to  him.  A  man  of  fifty  years  of 
age,  rotund  of  body,  rubicund  of  face,  beaming  with 
humour  and  good-temper;  a  rich,  unctuous  voice,  and 
a  continual  chuckle,  as  though  life  to  him  was  one  huge 
joke, — which  indeed  it  was.  The  old  reprobate  avowed 
that  he  had  lived  all  the  days  of  his  life,  and  all  the 
nights  as  well,  and  intended  so  to  live  until  he  died. 
Not  for  him  was  mere  existence,  but  life.  The  vine- 
leaves  and  roses  were  never  out  of  his  hair,  or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  were  never  off  his  head,  for  of  hair  his 
store  was  small ;  his  bald  pate  shone  with  the  lustre  of 
ruby  wine,  his  nose  blossomed  gaily  under  the  same 
fierce  warmth,  while  a  heavy  droop  of  the  left  eyelid 
suggested  a  perpetual  wink  at  all  and  sundry.  It  was 
a  boast  of  his  that  he  had  not  been  drunk  since  boy- 
hood. There  was  some  truth  in  this  :  so  soaked  was  he, 
so  inoculated  with  the  virus  of  the  grape,  that  drunk- 
enness was  now  impossible.  Still,  to  say  that  he  was 

53 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

never  drunk,  was  but  half  a  truth ;  he  should  have 
added  that  he  was  never  sober.  His  dress  was  sym- 
bolical, being  of  the  colour  of  his  favourite  red  wine, 
trimmed  with  vine-leaves  worked  in  gold.  On  his  head 
was  a  fillet,  which,  in  sympathy  with  the  drooping  eye- 
lid, had  slid  down  over  his  brow.  His  gait  was  not  too 
steady,  and  he  seemed  cautiously  to  feel  his  way  with 
his  gouty  toes,  as  though  those  members  had  learned 
by  long  and  bitter  experience  that  marble  was  harder 
and  more  enduring  than  flesh,  and  that  it  was  well  to 
tread  gently,  and  treat  the  stones  with  due  respect. 

Both  men  carried  fans  of  feathers,  after  the  effeminate 
custom  of  the  time. 

" "Welcome,  gentlemen ;  welcome!"  continued  Dacia. 
"  What  would  you  ?" 

"  Leave  to  worship,"  answered  Philodemus. 

"Leave  to  worship  Nero  grants  to  all,  save  the 
Nazarenes.  At  whose  shrine  wouldst  thou  bend  the 
knee?" 

"Venus,  I,"  replied  Philodemus,  with  a  languishing 
look  at  his  charmer. 

"And  Bacchus,  I,"  greasily  chuckled  Glabrio. 

"Hast  thou  not  worshipped  the  ruby  wine-god 
enough  already,  good  Glabrio  ?"  asked  Dacia. 

Glabrio's  mouth  moved  as  though  tasting  wine  of 
some  particularly  good  vintage ;  the  flavour  must  have 
been  pleasant,  for  the  old  toper's  face  broadened  with  a 
smile,  and  his  double  chin  waggled  with  satisfaction  as 
he  answered — 

"  Never  can  I  worship  him  enough !  The  sacred  fire 
of  Bacchus  is  in  my  veins  .  .  .  my  heart  .  .  .  my 

54 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

blood "  and,  reeling  slightly,  he  chuckled,  "  and,  to 

a  certain  extent,  in  my  legs,  as — er — you  may  per-per- 
perceive,"  looking  down  at  them  with  intense  amuse- 
ment. "  Look  at  them !  they  are  a  trifle  at  variance 
with — each — other — other,"  he  repeated,  as  he  smiled 
at  his  own  thoughts.  "  While  my  right  leg  would 
fain  go  east,  my  left  doth  struggle  to  convey  me 
west." 

"  At  variance  thus  early  in  the  day  ?"  asked  Dacia 
smilingly,  not  in  the  least  shocked  or  surprised  by  so 
very  common  an  occurrence. 

"  In  truth  they've  never  been  otherwise  since — since 
— oh,  since  that  last  banquet  Marcus  gave.  Oh,  the 
good  Marcus !  he  spares  nothing.  What  wine !"  He 
smacked  his  lips,  and  seemed  to  roll  the  fine  old  Faler- 
nian  unctuously  round  his  capacious  and  well-seasoned 
mouth.  "  Yea,  and  what  women !"  and  now  he  gave  a 
roguish  leer  as  he  looked  round  at  his  companion,  whilst 
making  a  pretence  of  hiding  his  blushes  with  his  fan. 
"  He  hath  a  pretty  taste  in  both." 

"  And  remains  unmoved  by  either,"  laughed  Dacia, 
dropping  her  fan. 

"True,"  drawled  and  lisped  Philodemus,  slightly 
envious ;  "  he  hath  a  head  of  iron  for  wine,  and  a  heart 
of  stone  for  women." 

"  Iron  melts,  and  stone  breaks.  He  will  get  caught' 
some  day,"  said  Glabrio,  with  tipsy  philosophy. 

"Marcus?    Never!"     Thus  Philodemus. 

Glabrio  had  waddled  to  the  steps,  and  was  vainly 
trying  to  reconcile  the  recalcitrant  legs  and  make  the 
perilous  ascent  to  Dacia's  side  ;  his  cautious  toes  acting 

55 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

as  advanced  guards  or  feelers.  Not  sorry  to  pause  in 
his  upward  progress,  he  turned  upon  Philodemus  with 
an  assumption  of  sober  gravity  that  his  watery  eyes 
and  stumbling  feet  denied,  and  said — 

"My  son,  let  an  older  and  a  wiser,  and,  of  a  surety, 
a  more  sober  man  advise  thee.  I  have  lived"  (here  a 
vain  endeavour  to  mount  the  next  step)  "  in  this  some- 
what unsteady  world  for  two-score  years  and  ten ;  have 
seen  many  sights,  and  vis-vis-vis-ited"  (overcoming  the 
obdurate  word  at  last)  "  many  lands,  but  never  yet  saw 
I  a  young  and  high-mettled  man  who  did  not,  sooner 
or  later, — usually  sooner," — with  an  unctious  laugh — 
"  succumb  to  some  fair  woman." 

"Never  Marcus!"  lisped  Philodemus,  with  languid 
assurance. 

"  Wait,  my  Philodemus,  wait !"  retorted  Glabrio,  with 
smiling  confidence. 

A  sudden  howl  of  execration,  and  a  rush  of  idlers  to 
the  corner  of  the  street,  attracted  the  attention,  and 
stopped  the  conversation  of  the  patricians,  who  rose 
and  peered  over  the  balcony  to  discover  the  cause  of 
the  uproar.  A  dense  crowd,  composed  chiefly  of  the 
rabble  and  the  lower  orders  (but  several  were  of  the 
better  class)  had  surrounded  some  person,  and  were 
evidently  hustling  and  otherwise  illtreating  him.  All 
seemed  absolutely  furious  with  the  man,  and,  headed 
by  the  spies,  Servilius  and  Strabo,  they  were  dragging 
him  bare-headed  and  dishevelled  along  the  roadway. 
The  object  of  their  hostility  was  the  old  man,  Favius, 
at  whom  those  nearest  to  him  aimed  blows  with  their 
fists  and  sticks.  His  garments  were  torn,  and  a  deep 
56 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

cut  on  his  forehead  testified  to  the  savagery  of  the  at- 
tacks upon  him. 

As  the  surging,  howling  mob  reached  the  centre  of 
the  street,  opposite  Dacia's  house,  the  old  man  was 
hurled  violently  to  the  ground  by  the  rabble,  who,  led 
by  the  two  spies,  were  yelling — 

"Death  to  the  Christians!     Death!  death!" 

But  death  there  and  then  would  have  robbed  the  in- 
formers of  their  blood-money,  so  they  cried,  "  Take  him 
to  the  Mdi\e !" 

Glabrio,  from  the  steps,  moved  with  some  pity  for 
Favius,  asked — 

"  What  hath  the  old  man  done  ?" 

"  Bowed  down  to  the  god  Anakoites.  He  is  worth 
two  hundred  sesterces,  and  Nero  will  make  a  torch  of 
him !"  shouted  Servilius. 

"  Ay  !"  roared  the  mob.     "To  the  lions  with  him!" 

And  again  thoy  rushed  at  the  good  old  man,  as 
though  he  were  some  wild  and  dangerous  beast. 

Now  down  the  street  sped  a  girl  so  lightly  and 
swiftly  that  she  appeared  to  skim  rather  than  tread  the 
ground.  Clad  in  pure  white,  she  seemed  to  the  brutal 
mob  a  daughter  of  the  gods  rather  than  of  earth,  and, 
for  the  moment,  they  slunk  back,  awed  and  ashamed. 
It  was  Mercia.  On  her  way  to  the  hous.e  of  her  friend, 
Favius,  she  had  seen  a  crowd  of  people  attacking  an 
apparently  helpless  man,  and,  not  pausing  to  count  the 
probable  cost  of  her  action,  had  run  boldly  forward  to 
assist,  and,  if  possible,  save  the  victim  of  their  fury. 
With  a  force  and  energy  amazing  in  one  so  seemingly 
Mght  and  frail,  she  pushed  the  men  away,  and  stood 

57 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

protecting  the  fallen  Favius  and  braving  the  mob. 
How  divinely  beautiful  she  looked !  Her  arms  were 
outstretched  as  if  to  shield  the  old  man  from  further 
peril,  her  eyes  shining  with  the  fire  of  righteous  wrath, 
and  her  lovely  face  alight  with  inspiration. 

The  tribute  that  manhood  ever  pays,  involuntarily  or 
willingly,  to  innocence  and  womanly  purity,  was  hers. 
This  weak  girl,  whom  any  man  there  could  have  brushed 
aside  with  ease,  cowed  them  all.  As  they  gazed  upon 
her  with  mingled  fear,  wonder,  and  admiration,  her 
sweet  voice  rang  out  clear  and  strong,  and  her  words 
cut  some  of  them  as  might  the  lash  of  a  whip. 

"  Are  ye  men  or  wolves  ?  Are  ye  blind  ?  Are  white 
hairs  no  longer  reverenced  in  Eome  ?"  Stooping  to 
Favius,  she  tenderly  helped  the  bleeding  and  stunned 
man  to  his  feet ;  then,  seeing  the  wound  upon  his  fore- 
head, she  added  with  gentle  solicitude — 

"  Are  you  hurt,  my  father  ?" 

"  I  feel  no  pain,  daughter,"  said  Favius,  who,  in  sooth, 
was  dazed  with  the  blows  showered  upon  him. 

"  But  there  is  blood  upon  thee !  Look,  men  of  Rome ! 
Are  you  not  ashamed?"  Mercia  indignantly  asked, 
turning  to  the  rabble. 

"  By  Bacchus,  what  a  beauty !"  said  Glabrio,  from 
the  balcony. 

Mercia  wiped  the  blood  from  the  face  of  Favius, 
and,  taking  his  hand,  said,  "  Let  me  lead  thee  home, 
my  father." 

But  by  this  time  Servilius  had  recovered  his  wits, 
and  he  stopped  her,  saying — 

"Not  so  fast !     What  say  ye,  citizens,  shall  a  pair  of 

58 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

pretty  eyes  and  a  baby  face  rule  Borne  and  Eo- 
mans  ?" 

"  No,  no !"  yelled  Strabo,  inciting  the  others  to  join 
him. 

Mercia  turned,  and,  with  a  touching  gesture  of 
entreaty,  said — 

"  I  beg  of  you  to  let  this  old  man  go !  There  is  no 
harm  in  him ;  I  know  him  well.  He  hath  wronged  no 
one — unless  it  be  a  wrong  to  nurse  the  sick,  comfort 
the  weary,  help  the  helpless.  All  these  things  hath  he 
done.  Would  you  slay  him  for  that?" 

Servilius  and  Strabo  redoubled  their  energies,  an(J 
yelling,  "  He  is  a  Christian  !  To  the  lions  with  him !" 
induced  the  crowd  to  close  once  more  round  the  hapless 
Favius,  to  whom  Mercia  was  clinging,  vainly  endeav- 
ouring to  shield  him  from  the  ruffians  who  were  trying 
to  drag  him  away.  But  her  efforts  were  futile  against 
the  blind  hostility  of  the  rabble.  A  dozen  strong,  piti- 
less hands  were  upon  her,  tearing  her  from  Favius ; 
their  wild  and  savage  execrations  were  ringing  in  her 
ears  as  she  continued  to  struggle  in  defence  of  her 
aged  teacher.  Death  to  both  seemed  inevitable ;  but 
there  was  a  quick  tramp  of  armed  men,  a  swift  rush 
of  shining  armour,  a  few  heavy  thuds,  as  the  handles 
of  spears  fell  upon  heads  and  bodies,  and,  like  a  flock 
of  frightened  sheep,  the  cowardly  crowd  fell  back  on 
either  side  of  the  street,  gazing  with  terrified  eyes  at 
the  guard  of  soldiers,  led  by  Viturius  and  commanded 
by  Marcus,  the  Prefect  of  Eome. 

And  thus,  for  the  first  time,  these  twain  met  and 
looked  upon  each  other.  What  is  the  subtle,  myste- 

59 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

rious  thing  men  call  affinity  ?  What  the  magnetism 
that,  with  a  look,  a  touch,  draws,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  two  souls  together,  never  to  be  parted  through 
all  eternity?  For  one  instant  only  had  their  eyes  metr 
and  yet,  in  that  moment,  all  the  currents  of  their  lives 
were  changed.  For  a  moment  neither  moved.  Some 
strange  spell  seemed  upon  both.  It  was  as  though  soul 
was  speaking  to  soul,  and  both  wondered.  But  this. 
was  no  time  for  self  analysis;  Marcus  had  to  act, 
and,  recovering  himself  he  asked,  with  the  manner 
and  voice  of  a  man  used  to  command  and  to  be- 
obeyed, — 

"  What  hath  this  old  man  done  ?" 

"He  is  a  Christian!"  shouted  the  too  busy  Servilius. 

"  Silence  that  fellow,  Viturius  !"  quickly  interposed 
Marcus,  and  Viturius,  nothing  loth,  smote  the  spy  over 
the  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  he  fell  back 
among  the  crowd  holding  his  face  in  both  hands, 
whimpering,  "  Nay,  nay,  good  Marcus,  I  have  done 
nothing  wrong."  And  the  wretched  turncoats  among 
the  mob  waved  arms  and  sticks  in  the  air  and  shouted, 
"Marcus!  Marcus!  Hail!  Hail!" 

With  a  shrug  of  contempt  Marcus  turned  from  them 
and  looked  once  more  on  Mercia.  With  open,  wonder- 
ing eyes  she  was  gazing  at  the  shining  figure  which  still 
stood  between  her  and  death.  It  had  seemed  to  her 
that  the  mob  had  recoiled  as  dark  spirits  of  evil  would 
fall  back  before  the  might  of  some  strong  angel  of  light. 
Marcus  looked,  indeed,  a  goodly  picture  of  manliness. 
Firm  set  in  the  full  vigour  of  his  virile  beauty,  his 
bearing  full  of  command,  his  face  slightly  flushed  with 
60 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

•excitement,  and  yet  his  whole  being  steady  as  a  rock, 
he  dominated  the  men  about  him  as  resistlessly  as  the 
waves  of  the  incoming  tide  sweep  over  the  beach.  He 
was  dressed  in  military  costume ;  a  short  white  linen 
tunic,  barely  reaching  to  the  knee,  was  covered  by  a 
coat  of  mail,  heavily  studded  with  bosses  and  plates  of 
brass,  and  jewelled  with  emeralds  and  rubies;  from 
under  this  fell  lambrikins  of  white  leather,  heavily 
trimmed  with  gold  and  jewels  and  edged  with  gold 
fringe.  A  helmet  of  polished  brass  glistened  on  his 
head,  and  a  short  mantle  of  old-gold-coloured  silk  hung 
from  his  shoulders.  His  sandals  were  topped  with  flat 
rings  of  gold,  and  over  the  centre  of  each  was  the  head 
of  a  lion  wrought  in  the  same  precious  metal.  His 
armour  and  jewels  glittered  in  the  sunlight,  and  half 
dazzled  the  eyes  that  looked  upon  them.  But  Mercia's 
eyes  were  upon  his  face.  His  gaze  seemed  bent  upon 
seeking  her  very  soul.  In  a  deep,  rich,  yet  gentle  tone, 
he  addressed  Mercia — 

"  What  is  thy  name,  girl?"  and  this,  the  first  spoken 
word  to  her,  sent  a  strange  shiver  through  Mercia's 
body.  Her  voice,  sweet  and  low,  trembled  a  little  as 
she  answered — 

"  Mercia." 

Marcus  thought  he  had  never  heard  music  so  ten- 
derly exquisite  as  that  sound.  Turning  his  eyes  for  a 
moment  upon  Favius,  he  asked — 

"  Thy  name,  friend  ?" 

"  Favius  Fontellus,"  was  the  answer.  Then  again 
the  eyes  of  Marcus  flashed  upon  Mercia. 

"  Is  this  maid  thy  daughter  ?" 
6l 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

"  Nay,  sir,"  and  Favius  seemed  to  interpose  to  shield 
Mercia  from  the  young  Prefect. 

"  Nor  any  kin  of  thine  ?"  asked  Marcus. 

"No." 

"  I  have  no  kin,"  softly  and  sadly  murmured  Mercia. 

"Why  is  she  with  thee,  then?"  said  Marcus  to 
Favius,  his  eyes  still  upon  Mercia. 

"  She  came  between  me  and  the  rabble  when  they  set 
upon  me,  to  protect  me,"  replied  Favius. 

A  slight  smile  flickered  on  the  face  of  Marcus  as  he 
exclaimed — 

"  Protect  thee  !  The  lily  protect  the  tottering  oak." 
"  What  a  lovely  face  I"  be  thought.  "  What  is  this  old 
man  to  thee  ?"  he  asked  of  Mercia. 

"  He  is  my  teacher." 

"  So.     Teach  you  in  the  public  schools  ?" 

«  No." 

"  Of  what  sect  art  thou  ?" 

"  I  am  a  philosopher." 

"  He  is  a  Christian ! — death  to  him  !"  here  yelled  the 
mob. 

"  Clear  the  streets,  Viturius,"  commanded  Marcus, 
and  Viturius  and  the  soldiers  drove  off  the  crowd,  who 
reluctantly  departed,  shouting  and  murmuring,  "  Death 
to  the  Christians." 

Glabrio,  who  had  been  an  amused  observer  of  the 
scene,  turned  to  Philodemus,  and  said,  "  Dost  see,  my 
Philoaemus,  beauty  hath  defeated  the  brute." 

"  If  ever  thou  shouldst  be  in  need  of  a  friend,  girl, 
come  to  me,"  said  Marcus  impressively,  still  regarding 
Mercia  with  earnestness. 

62 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

But  Mercia  shrank  a  little  from  him,  and  Favius 
came  between  them  and  said,  "  Shall  the  dove  seek  the 
hawk  for  friendship  ?" 

"  Not  if  the  hawk  be  hungry.  But  am  I  the  hawk  ?" 
queried  Marcus  laughingly. 

"  Thou  art  Marcus  Superbus,"  said  Favius. 

«  Well  ?" 

"  One  woman  more  or  less  is  naught  to  thee.  This 
child  is  purity — innocence  itself." 

"  Canst  thou  vouch  for  that,  old  man  ?" 

"  With  my  life." 

"Innocence  is  a  rare  jewel  in  Rome,  and,  for  its 
rarity,  much  desired,"  said  Marcus,  with  a  slight  sneer. 

With  much  dignity  Favius  answered,  "  Thou  hast 
done  a  noble  action  in  saving  her  from  the  rabble ;  it 
will  be  recorded  in  thy  favour.  Do  not  stain  that 
record  with  evil — let  this  maiden  go  her  way  un- 
harmed." 

There  was  something  in  the  nature  of  Marcus  which 
responded  to  this  dignified  appeal  of  the  aged  Christian, 
but  he  was  loth  to  let  the  fair  vision  depart,  and  again 
he  paused  and  looked  upon  Mercia.  His  bold,  search- 
ing eyes  had  in  them — even  against  his  will — some 
deeper  sentiment  than  mere  passion  ; — was  it  respect? 
A  sense  of  something  nobler  in  her  than  anything  he 
had  known  before  ?  A  craving  in  his  own  heart  that 
she  alone  could  satisfy  ?  He  knew  not  what  it  was, 
but  he  knew  that  some  subtle,  indefinable  change  was 
stealing  over  him.  Mercia,  in  her  turn,  was  lost  to  her 
surroundings,  and  was  a  passive  instrument  in  the 
hands  of  Favius.  In  her  eyes  there  was  that  which 

63 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

showed  that  her  heart  gave  full  response  to  all  the 
nobler  feelings  which  found  expression  in  his  eyes, 
while  all  that  was  suggestive  and  base  was  lost  to  her 
sight.  There  was  no  excuse  for  longer  detaining  them, 
and  Marcus  said — 

"  I  do  not  hinder  her  or  thee ;  prithee  go  thy 
ways." 

"  Oh,  promise,  Excellence,"  pleaded  Favius. 

"  Enough,"  said  Marcus  haughtily,  "  I  have  saved 
her  life  and  thine — let  that  suffice.  Go !" 

Quietly  and  with  dignity  Favius  turned  to  Mercia 
and  led  her  slowly  away,  but  to  the  last  her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Marcus,  who,  calling  Viturius  to  his  side, 
said  quickly — 

"Viturius,  follow  them — find  out  where  they  dwell — 
of  what  family  the  girl  is.  Quick,  learn  all  you  can 
about  her.  Go." 

"Yes,  Excellence,"  and  hastily  saluting  his  master, 
Viturius  followed  after  Mercia  and  Favius. 

"What  a  lovely  being!"  thought  Marcus.  "  Young, 
too.  Young,  lovely,  innocent,  and  alone — quite  alone 
in  cruel,  heartless  Eome.  The  sweetest,  most  enticing 
piece  of  womanhood  I've  seen  for  many  a  day."  His 
thoughts  were  interrupted  by  Dacia,  who  called  to  him 
from  the  balcony — 

"  Most  noble  Marcus !" 

Marcus  turned,  at  first  with  something  like  a  gesture 
of  impatience,  but  curbing  his  feelings,  he  saluted  Dacia, 
and  said — 

"  What  would  you  with  me,  fair  Dacia  ?  Ah,  Philo- 
demus  and  Glabrio." 

64 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

"  Hail,  Marcus !  That  was  a  pretty  piece  of  flesh — 
eh  ?"  leered  Glabrio. 

This  remark  of  Glabrio's,  uttered  a  few  minutes 
before  in  relation  to  some  other  woman,  would  have 
passed  unheeded  by  the  ears  of  Marcus,  but  applied 
to  Mercia,  it  sounded  like  a  profanation,  it  jarred 
harshly  upon  him,  and  he  turned  with  a  reply  to 
Dacia. 

"  What  would  you  with  me,  fair  Dacia  ?" 

"Thy  company,  most  noble  Marcus.  Join  these 
gentlemen ;  come,  honour  my  poor  dwelling  with  thy 
presence." 

"Alas!  fair  Dacia,  duty — stern,  inexorable  duty — 
calls  me  elsewhere,"  lightly  answered  Marcus,  looking 
in  the  direction  in  which  Mercia  had  gone. 

"Art  afraid  ?"  smiled  Dacia. 

"  Afraid  of  what  ?" 

"  Of  the  sharp  tongue  of  Berenice  ?" 

"  Neither  of  her  sharp  tongue  nor  of  thy  sweet  lips. 
Why  should  I  fear  Berenice  ?"  asked  Marcus. 

"Home  doth  link  thy  name  with  hers,"  answered 
Dacia. 

"  How  ?" 

"  'Tis  said  thou  art  betrothed  to  Berenice." 

"Indeed!"  said  Marcus  coldly;  "Rome  is  all  too 
kind.  It  honours  me  beyond  my  deserts." 

"Marcus  and  Berenice — it  would  be  a  glorious 
match,"  Dacia  rattled  on.  "  Tigellinus  is  thy  rival,  not 
only  for  Nero's  favour,  but  for  the  hand  of  Berenice ; 
Marcus  and  Berenice  united  need  fear  no  Tigellinus. 
What  say  you,  Marcus  ?" 

5  65 


THE   SIGN    OF  THE   CROSS 

"  That  Marcus  alone  has  yet  to  learn  to  fear  a  Tigel- 
linus." 

Not  heeding  the  quiet  but  cutting  scorn  of  the  reply, 
Dacia  continued,  "  Ah,  well !  all  Home  doth  know  it  is 
a  race  between  thee,  and  Tigellinus  is  not  the  man  to 
throw  a  chance  away.  You  are  both  ambitious.  Bere- 
nice is  not  only  rich  and  beautiful,  but  clever  withal, 
and  a  clever  woman " 

"That  is  true,  Marcus,"  broke  in  Glabrio;  "you 
should  take  to  yourself  a  wife." 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Marcus. 

"  Eh  ?  why — yes — ah,  yes — why  ? — well,  why  do  men 
marry  ?" 

"  Why — ah,  why  indeed  ?"  drily  echoed  Marcus. 

"  'Tis  every  man's  duty  to  take  a  wife,"  argued  Dacia. 

"  To  take  a  wife,  or  to  marry — which  ?"  lightly  asked 
Marcus. 

"  Both,"  laughed  the  gay  beauty.  "  Marry,  Marcus ; 
thou  art  rich  enough  to  support  a  wife  royally." 

"True;  but  nowadays,  in  Eome,  as  friend  Seneca 
writes:  'It  is  thought  so  much  more  honourable  to 
support  the  wife  of  your  friend' — eh,  Philodemus? 
And  to  be  married  is  scarce  a  pleasure,  while  women 
reckon  their  lives  not  by  their  years,  but  by  the  number 
of  their  husbands  ?" 

"  Come,  Marcus,  come,"  still  smiled  Dacia ;  "  some 
noble  ladies  keep  their  husbands." 

"Yes,  most  of  them,"  murmured  Marcus. 

"Rumour  saith "  began  Dacia  afresh,  but  Marcus 

was  weary  of  the  discussion,  and  he  curtly  stopped  her 
with — 

66 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

"  Rumour  hath  many  tongues,  and  most  of  them 
lying  ones.  No,  lady,  no ;  I  may  commit  many  acts  of 
folly,  but  marriage  will  not  be  one  of  them." 

"Berenice  will  make  thee  change  thy  resolve,"  in- 
sisted Dacia.  Then,  turning  to  go,  she  beckoned  to  her 
friends.  "  Farewell,  Marcus." 

"Farewell,  Dacia!"  answered  Marcus,  bowing. 
"Remember,  Philodemus  and  Glabrio,  you  sup  with 
me  to-morrow." 

"  I  will  not  fail  thee,  Marcus,"  simpered  the  effemi- 
nate youth,  escorting  Dacia  into  the  house. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Glabrio,  but  he  staggered  as  he  moved, 
and  laughingly  added  as  he  went,  "  that  is,  if  my  legs 
do  not  fail  me." 

"  Marriage !  no,  by  the  gods !"  mused  Marcus.  "  But 
this  girl, — how  her  face  haunts  me !  What  innocence ! 
— what  grace !  Is  it  possible  that  such  purity  can 
dwell  in  the  heart  of  one  of  these  despised  Christians  ?" 

Viturius  swiftly  crossed  the  street,  and  saluted 
Marcus. 

"  Ah,  Viturius,  where  left  you  the  girl  ?"  questioned 
the  Prefect. 

"  In  a  small  house :  the  fourth  on  the  right  from  the 
statue  of  Hercules,  Excellence,"  quickly  replied  the 
officer. 

"  Know  you  aught  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  house  ?" 
Marcus  asked  anxiously. 

"  The  house  is  suspected,  Excellence." 

"Of  what?" 

"  Of  being  a  meeting-place  of  these  Christians." 
.    This  reply  sent  a  thrill  of  dread  to  the  heart  of 

67 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

Marcus,  that  he  did  Dot  quite  understand,  and  still  more 
anxiously  he  asked — 

"  Ah !  is  this  mere  rumour?" 

"No,  Excellence.  I  know  that  the  aedile  of  the 
district  hath  set  a  special  watch  upon  the  house." 

"  A  secret  watch  ?" 

"  Yes,  Excellence." 

"  Who  is  the  aedile  of  the  district  ?" 

"  Licinius." 

"Licinius!  the  most  cruel,  merciless,  and  blood- 
thirsty officer  in  Kome !  The  gods  protect  these  poor 
people  if  he  do  suspect  them,  for  if  there  is  no  evidence 
against  them,  he  will  invent  it.  Yiturius,  return  at 
once  to  the  spies ;  learn  all  you  can  from  them.  If 
any  arrest  is  ordered  or  contemplated,  let  me  be  ad- 
vised instantly.  You  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  Excellence." 

"  Then  go." 

Yiturius  wondered  a  little  at  the  unwonted  interest 
his  young  master  was  showing,  but  he  only  asked, 
"  Will  you  go  unattended,  Excellence  ?" 

"Yes;  go." 

"I  obey,  Excellence,"  and,  saluting  once  more,  he 
swiftly  re- crossed  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the 
house  of  Favius. 

"  Licinius !"  thought  Marcus, — "  a  wolf,  from  whose 
ravenous  fangs  this  sweet  white  lamb  must  be  pro- 
tected. I  have  another  fate  in  store  for  her.  What 
grace !  what  tenderness !  I  have  never  been  so  moved 
by  womanhood  before :  I  thought  all  women  were  alike 
tome.  I  was  wrong.  And  a  Christian,  too !" 
68 


SOME   PATRICIANS 

Marcus  wondered  at  himself.  Besting  against  the 
base  of  a  gilt  statue  of  Nero,  he  gave  himself  up  to 
thought.  The  plebeians  who  passed  him  looked  at  him 
with  curiosity,  and  some  wonderment,  but  did  not  dare 
to  pause,  or  give  him  more  than  a  quick  glance  as  they 
went  on  their  way.  So  still  was  he  that  the  pigeons 
from  the  Quay  fluttered  round  him,  and  strutted  fear- 
lessly almost  to  his  sandalled  feet.  "  Mercia,"  he  mur- 
mured softly  to  himself;  "Mercia!"  trying  uncon- 
sciously to  reproduce  the  music  of  the  sound  of  Mercia's 
voice  repeating  her  own  name.  His  heart  beat  faster 
at  the  recollection.  He  had  grown  weary  of  the  wiles 
of  the  women  he  had  constantly  to  meet.  He  knew 
their  weaknesses,  their  vices,  and  their  allurements  by 
heart.  The  flesh  alone  had  been  moved, — never  his 
soul.  The  brightest,  wittiest,  and  most  clever  among 
them  he  had  found  some  pleasure  in,  but  there  was 
always  a  something  wanting  in  them  that  usually  drove 
him  with  impatience  away.  They  were  not  all  vicious 
actually,  but  vice  was  not  abhorrent  to  them.  All  who 
dared  hope  for  the  honour  (and  there  were  few  who 
did  not)  schemed  and  plotted  to  become  his  wife. 
"  Marriage !  faugh !  a  mere  licence  for  profligacy,  im- 
munity from  shame;  the  husband  a  shield  that  pro- 
tected, but  did  not  hide  the  wife's  laxity.  No;  he 
would  have  none  of  it."  And  yet  his  home  was  lonely ; 
his  life,  in  spite  of  its  gaieties  and  pleasures,  its  constant 
change  of  faces  and  companions, — male  and  female, — 
was  dull  and  profitless.  Women  appealed  to  the  brute 
part  of  him — always — either  impelled  by  the  brute  in 
themselves,  or  from  cunning  and  greed  of  gain !  He 
69 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

had  scarcely  to  ask  to  obtain,  and  if  any  for  a  moment 
refused  through  coquetry,  he  yawned,  left  and  forgot 
them.  "  Virtue!"  bah !  another  word  for  fear!  In  the 
feminine  spiritual  constitution  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  virtue  for  virtue's  sake,  and  yet  this  girl,  this  Chris- 
tian, this  Mercia, — and  again  he  murmured  the  name 
of  "  Mercia"  softly  under  his  breath, — what  a  lovely 
face  I  Mercia !  Mercia ! 


CHAPTER    VIII 

BERENICE 

THE  reverie  of  Marcus  was  broken  by  a  musical,  cul- 
tivated voice  breathing  his  name.  He  turned  and  be- 
held a  beautiful  woman,  seated  in  ulectica  chair,  carried 
on  the  shoulders  of  two  gigantic  negroes ;  by  her  side 
walked  a  bluff  and  heavy-moving  man  of  middle  age, 
in  the  dress  of  a  Eoman  general.  At  a  little  distance 
behind  her  were  two  elegantly  attired  and  handsome 
female  slaves.  The  lady,  who  looked  every  inch  the 
well-born  patrician  that  she  was,  smiled  graciously 
upon  him  as  she  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss,  saying, 
"  Hail !  noble  Marcus !" 

"  Hail !  lady !"  replied  Marcus,  bowing  gracefully 
over  the  outstretched  fingers. 

This  lady  was  one  of  Eome's  most  beautiful  and  proud 
patricians.  She  was  an  orphan,  of  twenty  years  of  age. 
Her  father  had  been  a  general  in  the  time  of  Claudius, 
and,  like  many  of  his  class,  had  amassed  great  wealth. 
This  he  had  invested  with  such  skill  and  foresight  that, 
when  he  died,  he  left  his  daughter  a  fortune  exceeded 
by  that  of  no  other  woman  in  Eome.  His  wife  had 
preceded  him  to  the  grave  while  his  daughter  was  still 
a  child,  and  he  lavished  on  the  young  Berenice  all  the 
affection  of  a  not  unloving  nature. 

His  wife  was  not  a  Eoman.  He  had  fought  a  battle 
with  a  German  prince,  whom  he  captured  and  made 

71 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

prisoner.  The  daughter  of  this  prince — or  king — was 
a  lovely  blonde  of  chaste  and  dignified  character,  and  a 
mutual  love  resulted  in  a  happy  marriage  that  was 
ended  only  by  her  death.  He  brought  her  to  Eome, 
and  Berenice  was  born.  The  child  inherited  the  almost 
black  hair  of  the  father  and  the  large  blue  eyes  of  the 
mother ;  the  blue  was  the  light  azure  of  the  morning 
sky.  She  was  above  the  average  height  of  woman ; 
splendidly  proportioned,  she  moved  with  all  the  grace 
of  a  thoroughly  well-bred  woman.  She  was  as  clever 
as  she  was  beautiful.  Young,  enormously  wealthy,  in- 
tellectual, with  an  unstained  reputation,  she  was  looked 
upon  as  the  greatest  prize  in  the  Eoman  matrimonial 
market. 

Such  was  the  woman  with  whom  her  friend  Dacia 
said  the  name  of  Marcus  was  coupled  by  all  Eome. 
Any  man  might  well  be  proud  of  such  a  distinction ; 
but,  truth  to  tell,  the  somewhat  over-blessed  Marcus 
did  not  feel  a  single  heart-beat  or  one  pulsation  of  his 
veins  quickened  either  by  the  compliment  or  the  lady's 
presence.  Not  that  he  held  her  in  no  regard ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  esteemed  her  as  one  of  the  most  virtuous 
women  of  his  acquaintance.  She  had  always  evinced  a 
liking  for  him,  which  showed  itself  in  a  thousand 
pleasant  ways.  He,  in  turn,  did  not  hesitate  to  show 
his  friendship  for  her  by  attentions  and  gifts  that 
would  have  turned  the  heads,  if  not  have  moved  the 
hearts,  of  most  women.  Berenice's  heart  was  moved 
to  its  utmost  depths,  and  she  loved  the  young  Prefect 
with  all  the  warmth  of  her  Eoman,  and  all  the  con- 
stancy of  her  German,  nature. 
72 


Byron,  N.  Y. 

SHE  BENT   UPON   HIM    A   GLANCE  THAT   WAS   DIRECT   AND   WARM. 


BERENICE 

Berenice  was  not  of  a  placid  or  listless  temperament ; 
her  young  blood  was  full  of  life,  vivacity,  and  passion. 
Her  tongue  could  be  sharp  at  times,  but  the  wounds  it 
gave  were  inflicted  with  a  polished  weapon,  not  as  with 
a  bludgeon. 

As  she  sat  in  her  lectica  she  looked  a  very  queen  in 
stateliness  and  distinction.  She  needed  no  rich  dress  to 
make  her  noticeable,  but  she  was  both  richly  and  taste- 
fully attired,  and  she  leaned  back  in  her  gold  and  ivory- 
bedecked  carriage  with  the  comforting  conviction  that 
among  all  the  fair  sights  of  Rome  none  could  be  found 
more  fair  than  the  picture  she  presented  to  the  man 
she  idolised.  She  had  been  listening  wearily  and  list- 
lessly to  the  heavy,  blundering  compliments  of  the 
lovelorn  soldier  by  her  side,  but  her  eyes  had  lit  up 
with  a  sudden  gleam  of  fire  as  she  caught  sight  of 
Marcus.  Her  colour  rose  as  Marcus  lightly  touched 
her  fingers  with  his  lips,  and  she  bent  down  upon  him 
a  glance  that  was  direct  and  warm  enough  to  have 
pierced  the  armour  and  heart  of  any  save  the  one  and 
only  man  she  cared  to  waste  a  thought  upon. 

Lifting  his  hand,  Marcus  saluted  the  officer  witb, 
"  Hail,  Metullus !" 

"  Hail,  Marcus !"  gruffly  responded  that  gentleman. 

"  What  is  the  latest  gossip,  Marcus  ?"  asked  Berenice. 

"  That  Berenice  is  still  Berenice,"  he  answered  gal- 
lantly. 

"  Is  that  a  compliment  ?" 

"  If  I  say  the  sun  is  still  the  sun,  can  I  pay  a  higher 
tribute  to  its  light  ?  If  I  say  the  rose  is  still  the  rose, 
can  I  extol  its  sweetness  more  ?  And  if  I  say  Berenice 

73 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

is  still  Berenice,  can  I  pay  Berenice  a  greater  compli- 
ment? What  say  you,  Metullus?"  said  Marcus. 

The  glib  tongue  of  Marcus  annoyed  the  more  stolid 
Metullus,  and  he  growled  out — 

"  Nay,  Marcus,  I  am  but  a  rough  soldier,  and  tricks 
of  tongue  are  not  for  me.  I  can  give  an  order,  or  obey 
one ;  I  can  fight  for  a  woman  with  my  sword — but  not 
with  my  wit." 

"  Ah,"  replied  Marcus,  "  the  man  who  would  carve  his 
way  into  a  woman's  heart  is  like  to  find  love  butchered 
there." 

"  So !  Well,  being  butchered,  it  could  not  be  another's." 

"Metullus,  terrible  Metullus!"  said  Berenice,  shrink- 
ing in  mock  fear,  and  then  to  Marcus,  with  a  sweet 
glance  of  the  blue  eyes,  "Good  Marcus,  shall  I  be 
honoured  ?" 

"  How,  gracious  lady  ?" 

"  With  thy  escort  home  ?" 

"Nay,  thou  hast  thine  escort,  lady,"  said  Marcus 
evasively,  with  a  glance  down  the  street  in  the  direction 
Mercia  had  taken. 

"  Wilt  visit  me  to-day  ?" 

"To-day?  I  am  busy  upon  State  affairs.  Alas!  I 
must  deny  myself  that  joy." 

Berenice  let  her  little  white  teeth  close  for  a  moment 
on  her  under-lip  before  she  said — 

"  To-morrow,  then  ?" 

"To-morrow  I  feast  some  friends." 

"  And  you  invite  not  me !  That  is  scarcely  kind  or 
flattering." 

"  It  is  a  man's  feast,  fair  Berenice." 

74 


BERENICE 

"  "Will  there  be  no  ladies  present  ?" 

"I  think  I  may  truly  say  there  will  be  no  ladies 
present." 

"  No  women  either  ?" 

"  Well,  some  players  or  singers,  perchance." 

Here  Glabrio,  freshly  charged  with  Dacia's  hospi- 
tality, staggered  on  to  the  balcony  and  sank  rather 
suddenly  on  the  seat  at  the  top  of  the  steps. 

"Marcus  at  least  is  frank;  he  does  not  hide  his 
vices." 

"  Is  it  a  vice  to  love  ?"  questioned  Marcus. 

"  Love !  Does  the  word  apply  in  such  cases  ?"  ques- 
tioned Berenice,  with  angry  contempt  in  her  tones. 

"  It  serves,"  lightly  retorted  Marcus. 

"  Have  you  no  heart,  Marcus  ?"  asked  Berenice  softly. 

Glabrio  broke  in  with  tipsy  jocularity — 

"  Heart  ?  I  thought  not,  until  a  moment  ago ;  but 
beauty  vanquished  the  brute,  and  I  know  now " 

"  I  hardly  understand,"  said  Berenice,  with  a  coldly 
questioning  glaijpe. 

"No?  Why  .  .  .  pretty  Christian  .  .  .  black  eyes 
.  .  .  Marcus  rescue  .  .  .  lovely  girl,"  spluttered  Gla- 
brio. 

"  Christian  ?  Lovely  girl  ?  What  is  this,  Marcus  ?" 
Berenice  was  now  thoroughly  alert  and  anxious. 

"  A  slight  hallucination  of  Glabrio's,  the  result  of  an 
all  too  early  devotion  to  the  god  of  wine." 

"Eh?  What?  What?  Early  luce-e-luci-lucina- 
tion !  Not  at  all,"  hiccoughed  the  tipsy  jester,  and, 
rising  with  no  little  difficulty,  he  groped  his  way  to  his 
friend  Philodemus. 

75 


THE   SIGN    OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Philodemus,  come  here,"  and  Philodemus,  looking 
flushed  and  more  vacant  of  mind  than  ever,  came,  ask 
ing — 

"  Why  have  you  left  the  table,  Glabrio  ?" 

"  Only  to  taste  the  air,"  answered  Glabrio.  "  Did  not 
beauty  vanquish  the  brute  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"Who  was  this  beauty,  Philodemus — this  Chris- 
tian?" asked  Berenice,  a  jealous  fire  already  in  her 
eyes. 

Glabrio  was  about  to  answer,  but  Marcus  imperiously 
interposed. 

"Enough,  Glabrio;  this  jest  has  gone  too  far.  Wine 
is  a  good  servant,  but  a  tyrannical  master.  Go  and 
rest,  good  Glabrio.  Philodemus,  give  thy  friend  thine 
arm,  and  conduct  him  within." 

The  manner  of  Marcus  was  too  stern  for  the  weak 
Philodemus  to  resist,  and  he  took  his  friend  by  the  arm 
and  endeavoured  to  carry  out  the  dictates  of  Marcus. 
"  Thou  hadst  better  follow  me,  Glabrio." 

"  But  beauty  .  .  .  black  eyes  .  .  .  Christian  girl." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course ;  within,"  protested  Philodemus. 

"Within?  Why  within  ?"  said  Glabrio.  "I  desire 
to  tell  the  lady  Berenice  that  the  pretty  Christian " 

There  followed  from  Marcus  a  look  of  such  swift 
menace  that  Philodemus  hastened  Glabrio  with  a  sud- 
den jerk  that  sent  the  graceless  old  toper  reeling  into 
the  house,  and  Philodemus  shut  the  door  upon  himself 
and  his  friend. 

Not  a  look  or  a  movement  on  the  part  of  Marcus 
had  been  lost  to  Berenice.  He  had  betrayed  impatience 

76 


BERENICE 

and  anger,  unusual  weaknesses  for  the  Prefect  to  in- 
dulge in.  Why?  Who  was  this  Christian  girl?  And 
what  was  she  to  Marcus  ?  Berenice  shivered  slightly 
as  she  looked  at  Marcus  and  asked — 

"  Were  you  afraid  that  he  would  speak  too  freely  ?" 
"  He  hath  spoken  too  freely  already." 
"  And  this  strange  girl — this  Christian  ?" 
"  There  is  no  evidence  that  she  is  a  Christian.     A 
young  girl  and  an  old  man  were  attacked  by  a  rabble. 
My  guard  protected  them.     That  is  all.     Glabrio  saw 
too  much,  or  heard  too  little.    Not  an  uncommon  failing 
with  men  in  his  condition." 

"  Men  in  wine  speak  the  truth,  Marcus." 
"Another,  and   still   older  proverb  for  thee,  sweet 
lady,  '  When  the  wine  is  in  the  wit  goes  wandering.' " 

Fain  would  Berenice  have  concluded  that  Glabrio's 
remarks  must  be  but  the  babble  of  a  tipsy  gossip,  but 
Marcus'  manner  gave  the  lie  to  any  such  thought.  He 
was  restless,  uneasy,  even  nervous.  Indeed  he  had 
cause  to  be  so.  Glabrio  had  started  a  stone  rolling 
down  a  steep  hill.  Who  could  say  where  it  would  stop  ? 
The  whisper,  the  hint  that  a  person  was  a  Christian 
carried  with  it  such  terrible  dangers,  that  the  mere 
thought  of  them  in  connection  with  this  innocent  girl, 
Mercia,  made  Marcus  shudder.  He  knew,  too,  that  his 
office  and  position  would  compel  him  to  use  his  power 
to  bring  any  so  accused  to  punishment,  and  the  thought 
of  being  compelled  to  use  his  authority  against  Mercia 
was  horrible  to  him.  And  yet,  why  should  he  fear  ? 
He  would  protect  Mercia — in  his  own  way;  Nero 
would  understand,  and  be  the  last  to  interpose  between 

77 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

him  and  his  desires.  There  need  be  nothing  to  trouble 
him  or  her;  he  had  but  to  beckon,  and  Mercia  would 
follow.  Yes,  there  lay  a  clear  way  out  of  the  difficulty. 
He  would  make  further  inquiries  about  the  girl,  and 
shield  her  with  his  affection  and  his  rank.  She,  of 
course,  would  be  only  too  glad  to  accept  immunity  with 
his  advances.  There  would  be  resistance,  a  little  more 
prolonged  than  usual  perhaps,  but  that  mattered  not ; 
the  end  would  be  the  same.  No,  the  law  should  not 
touch  her ;  he  would  take  good  care  of  that ! 

"  What  are  thy  thoughts  now,  most  silent  and  pre- 
occupied Marcus  ?"  quietly  asked  Berenice. 
•  He  was  spared  the  trouble  of  inventing  an  answer  by 
the  approach  of  Tigellinus  and  a  file  of  soldiers.  The 
Councillor  frowned  slightly  as  he  saw  Marcus  standing 
so  close  in  converse  with  Berenice,  but  he  saluted  him 
with  elaborate  courtesy,  and  said — 

"  Well  met,  Prefect." 

"Hail,  Tigellinus!"  answered  Marcus,  with  a  slight 
inclination  of  the  head. 

Approaching  Berenice,  Tigellinus  said  to  her — 

"  Hail,  gentle  lady !  Hail,  Metullu&I  Prefect,  I  was 
on  my  way  to  seek  thee.  The  Emperor  greets  thee, 
and  sends  thee  this,"  and  upon  the  word  he  handed  a 
scroll  to  Marcus. 

"  Is  it  so  very  urgent  ?"  asked  Marcus  haughtily. 

"  Most  urgent." 

Marcus,  accepting  the  scroll,  smiled  coldly  upon 
Tigellinus,  and,  bowing  low  to  Berenice,  said,  "  Will 
you  pardon  me,  lady  ?" 

The  scroll  contained  the  following  message : — 
78 


BERENICE 

"To  MY  WELL-BELOVED  SERVANT,  MARCUS, — GREET- 
ING: The  accursed  sect  of  the  Christians  is  increasing. 
They  plot  together  to  destroy  my  throne  and  life.  They 
will  not  bow  down  to  me  nor  call  me  Caesar,  nor  pay 
tribute  unto  me.  They  are  murderers  and  fanatics, 
venomous  and  bloodthirsty.  Spare  none  of  them — 
men,  women,  nor  children.  Slay  those  who  are  dan- 
gerous ;  the  rest  I  will  give  to  the  beasts  in  the  arena. 
Thou  hast  full  power.  Show  mercy  to  none.  On  thy 
life  I  charge  thee  to  be  faithful. 

"  C^JSAB." 

Marcus  had  read,  and  was  gazing  abstractedly  at  the 
mandate,  when  Berenice  said  to  Tigellinus — 

"  Tour  news  seems  to  trouble  the  noble  Marcus." 

"  It  should  not  do  so,"  he  answered,  looking  at  Mar- 
cus with  suspicion.  "  'Tis  but  a  fresh  edict  from  Nero 
to  exterminate,  at  any  cost,  these  accursed  Christians. 
To  Marcus  is  allotted  this  special  duty." 

"  To  exterminate,  at  any  cost,  the  Christians  ?" 

"  Ay,  gentle  lady.  The  Emperor  has  been  informed 
by  traitors  in  their  sect  that  they  plot  against  his  life. 
His  edict  condemns  to  torture  and  to  death  all  who  are 
proved  to  worship  with  them  or  help  them  in  any 
way." 

"  Torture  and  death  !"  mused  Berenice,  gazing  at 
Marcus,  who  turned  towards  Tigellinus  and  said — 

"  I  kiss  the  mandate  of  the  Emperor,  Tigellinus." 

"  And  will  obey  it  ?" 

"  Can  you  doubt  it  ?"  icily  responded  Marcus. 

Tigellinus  turned  on  his  heel  and  addressed  Berenice. 

79 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"Go  you  homeward,  lady?  Let  me  add  to  your 
escort  ?" 

"  Gladly,"  she  said.  "  Farewell,  Marcus.  The  Em- 
peror hath  chosen  wisely.  Torture  and  death  to  all 
Christians,  without  distinction  of  sex !  A  wise  decree, 
and  a  timely  one.  Farewell,  Marcus,"  and  casting  on 
him  a  meaning  look,  which  he  did  not  fail  to  under- 
stand, she  was  borne  away  by  the  negroes,  followed 
by  Tigellinus,  Metullus,  and  the  slaves. 

As  they  left  him,  Marcus  again  unrolled  the  scroll 
he  held  in  his  hand,  and  re-read  the  command  of  Csesar. 
"Spare  none  of  these  Christians — men,  women,  nor 
children.  .  .  .  Thou  hast  full  power.  .  .  .  On  thy  life 
I  charge  thee  to  be  faithful."  Faithful  to  such  a  man- 
date !  And  this  girl,  this  fair  and  innocent  creature, 
Mercia,  was  she  too  a  Christian  ? 

Slowly  pacing  the  street,  he  encountered  Yiturius, 
who  saluted  him  hurriedly,  and  said — 

"  Excellence — the  young  girl " 

"  Mercia  ?"  eagerly  inquired  Marcus. 

"  Yes,  Excellence.  I  was  watching  the  house,  as 
thou  didst  command  me,  when  I  saw  the  door  cautiously 
opened ;  a  boy  came  out  and  looked  carefully  up  and 
down  the  street ;  not  observing  me,  he  beckoned,  and 
the  girl,  Mercia,  with  a  mantle  over  her  head,  came 
softly  forth.  I  doubled  upon  them  to  tell  thee.  See  ! 
here  they  come."  Viturius  pointed  down  the  street, 
where  Marcus  beheld  the  maiden  who  had  caused  him 
so  much  anxious  thought,  accompanied  by  a  boy  some 
twelve  years  old,  dressed  in  a  short  brown  tunic, 
.  girded  in  by  a  buff  leather  belt.  Across  his  shoulders 
80 


BERENICE 

hung  a  strap  of  similar  make,  from  which  was  sus- 
pended a  pouch.  His  face  was  handsome  and  ingen- 
uous ;  his  long  light  brown  hair  fell  in  clusters  over 
his  forehead,  which  was  broad  and  well-shaped.  The 
eyes  were  frank  and  affectionate ;  his  mouth  and  lips 
were  curved ;  his  chin  rather  too  sensitive  and  pointed 
for  the  rest  of  his  face  and  head.  He  held  Mercia 
by  the  hand  and  chatted  gaily  as  he  strolled  along  by 
her  side.  As  the  two  approached,  Marcus  and  Vitu- 
rius  moved  away  until  they  were  hidden  by  the  base 
of  Nero's  statue. 

The  sun  was  setting  and  warming  the  streets  and 
palaces  with  its  ruddy  glow.  Mercia  wore  a  mantle 
over  her  white  robes,  of  a  delicate  puce  colour,  one  end 
of  which  formed  a  kind  of  hood  and  partly  concealed 
her  face.  As  they  neared  the  statue  she  paused,  and 
looking  at  that  spot  where,  a  short  time  ago,  she  had 
met  Marcus — that  meeting  so  fraught  with  fate  to 
both — she  sighed  softly  to  herself,  then  said  to  the 
boy — 

"  Indeed,  I  am  safe  now,  Stephanus ;  return  to 
Favius." 

','  Nay,"  said  the  lad,  with  manly  assumption,  "  I  will 
not  leave  thee,  Mercia,  until  I  see  thee  within  thine  own 
doors.  The  streets  are  not  safe  for  thee." 

Marcus  moved  from  the  shelter  in  which  he  had 
stood  unobserved,  and  broke  quietly  in  upon  their 
words — 

"  No  indeed,  they  are  not ;  nor  for  thee,  either,  boy." 

"  I  care  not  for  myself,  but  for  her,"  replied  Steph- 
anus, with  a  smile  of  surprise  at  the  stranger. 
6  8l 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Come,  Stephanus,  come,"  said  Mercia,  nervously, 
trying  to  pass  Marcus. 

"Let  me  attend  thee,  lady.  In  the  streets  of  Eome 
this  boy  is  no  protection,"  Marcus  urged,  with  winning 
courtesy. 

"  I  thank  thee,  sir,  but  do  not  need  thy  help,'  said 
Mercia,  and,  as  he  moved  towards  her,  a  slight  shrink- 
ing movement  betrayed  her  alarm. 

"  Dost  thou  fear  me,  lady  ?"  asked  he,  with  a  note  of 
resentment  in  his  voice. 

"  I  have  been  told  to  avoid  thee,"  she  replied  inno- 
cently. 

"  By  the  old  man,  Favius  ?" 

"  By  him — and  others,"  and  her  beautiful  eyes  gazed 
gadly  upon  him. 

Marcus  pondered  a  moment,  and  then  with  an 
inquiring  smile  asked — 

"  Ah  !  I  have  a  bad  reputation  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  quietly;  and  Marcus  bowed  with 
satirical  humility. 

"  Perchance  I  deserve  it — and,  perchance,  do  not. 
Perchance  I  have  been  a  trifle  spoiled.  Never  knew  I 
cause  or  inclination  to  deny  myself  aught  that  I  de- 
sired. It  is  long  since  I  have  desired  anything  ardently. 
To-day  I  have  had  quite  a  revelation ;"  the  rich  low 
tones  grew  deep  and  earnest.  "  There  is,  I  find,  in  all 
this  worn-out  Rome,  one  thing  I  really  want — and 
really  mean  to  have.  Canst  guess  what  that  thing 
is?" 

"I  do  not  wish  to  try.     Please  let  me  pass." 

"Pray,  let  me  attend  thee.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  so 
82 


BERENICE 

rare  a  jewel  go  unguarded,"  Marcus  said,  still  gently 
barring  her  way. 

Even  as  he  spoke  Tigellinus  and  Servilius  entered 
the  street  and  rapidly  approached  the  Prefect,  unper- 
ceived  by  him. 

"Indeed,  I  wish  to  go  alone,"  said  Mercia  ur- 
gently. 

Servilius  slunk,  with  his  wolflike  motion,  round  the 
base  of  Nero's  statue,  behind  Marcus,  as  Tigellinus 
strode  to  the  Prefect's  side,  and,  pointing  at  Mercia, 
exclaimed — 

"  That  is  the  very  girl,  Excellence !" 

"Who  is  this  woman,  Prefect?"  Tigellinus  asked 
with  studied  insolence. 

Marcus  met  him  with  a  look  that  amply  repaid  him 
for  his  contemptuous  tone,  and,  with  quiet  dignity, 
answered — 

"  This  lady's  name  is  Mercia." 

Tigellinus  stared  contemptuously  at  Mercia  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said — 

"  This  man  accuses  her  of  being  a  Christian.  If  that 
be  so,  it  is  your  duty  to  arrest  her." 

Marcus'  hand  moved  quickly  to  the  handle  of  his 
sword,  a  movement  which  startled  the  spy,  and  made 
even  the  scornful  Tigellinus  blench.  But  Marcus  looked 
at  Mercia,  and,  with  some  effort,  controlled  himself,  and 
quietly  he  said — 

"  Be  sure  I  know  my  duty,  Tigellinus, — not  only  to 
the  Emperor,  but  also  to  myself." 

Then,  turning  to  his  captain,  he  said — 

"  Viturius,  accompany  this  lady  home." 

83 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

His  quiet  assurance  enraged  Tigellinus,  who  angrily 
exclaimed — 

"  Have  a  care,  Marcus !  If  thou  dost  neglect  Caesar's 
commands " 

"  Enough,  sir,"  said  Marcus  sternly,  and  turning  from 
him,  he  added,  in  ringing  tones,  "  Viturius,  I  hold  you 
responsible  for  this  lady's  safety.  Go !" 

Then,  with  a  bow  in  which  reverence  and  admiration 
were  curiously  blent,  he  said  to  Mercia — 

"  Farewell,  lady." 

Almost  reluctantly  Mercia  moved  away,  Stephanus 
still  holding  tightly  to  her  hand,  and  Viturius  following 
and  keeping  faithful  guard. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   ARREST   OF   STEPHANUS 

MARCUS  returned  slowly  and  thoughtfully  to  his 
palace.  He  had,  in  sooth,  food  in  plenty  for  reflection. 
The  events  of  the  past  few  hours  were  burnt  into  his 
brain ;  he  could  never  erase  them  so  long  as  he  lived. 
Moreover,  his  sensations  were  new  and  strange  to  him. 
In  his  many  adventures  with  women,  he  had  never 
been  so  much  as  scratched  by  Cupid's  arrows.  He  had 
begun  to  doubt,  if  not  the  actual  existence  of  love,  at 
least  his  own  capacity  to  feel  it.  Was  he  feeling  it 
now  ?  He  could  not,  try  as  he  might,  analyse  his  own 
sensations.  Mercia  had  produced  in  his  mind  a  novel 
sense  of  tenderness  towards  mankind  in  general  that 
might  have  embraced  even  Tigellinus  himself,  had  not 
the  Councillor  attacked  Mercia.  That  he  could  not  en- 
dure. Mercia !  how  he  longed  to  follow  her.  Why 
had  he  not  done  so  ?  What  folly  on  his  part  was  this 
to  send  Viturius  with  her.  Why  had  he  not  gone  him- 
self? True,  she  had  firmly  refused  his  proffered  escort, 
but  that  was  before  he  had  saved  her  from  Tigellinus. 
She  would  surely  not  have  rejected  his  offer  again. 
Whither  had  she  gone  ?  Even  that  he  did  not  know, 
and  must  await  the  return  of  Yiturius  ere  he  could 
learn. 

He  summoned  a  slave  and  inquired  if  Viturius  had 

85 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

yet  arrived.  No,  of  course  not;  there  was  not  yet 
time.  Impatiently  he  paced  the  marble  floor  of  his 
room.  It  was  now  night,  and  Eome  was  flooded  with 
the  soft  light  of  the  early  moon.  He  went  to  the  case- 
ment and  gazed  over  the  city  towards  the  quarter 
whither  he  supposed  Mercia  was  gone.  How  was  he 
to  see  her  again  ?  She  had  given  him  no  encourage- 
ment to  attempt  to  find  her.  She  had  repulsed  his 
every  advance,  and  yet,  he  was  sure,  not  because  he 
had  made  no  impression  upon  her,  or  that  the  impres- 
•ion,  if  made,  was  a  disagreeable  one.  That  he  knew 
from  her  eyes,  however  her  words  and  actions  could  be 
construed.  Again  he  upbraided  himself  for  his  folly 
in  not  accompanying  her.  And  Tigellinus?  What 
cared  he  for  Tigellinus?  He  might  inform  Csesar— let 
him  do  so.  Ah,  but  stay,  what  if  Tigellinus  used  his 
authority  to  persecute  Mercia  and  her  friends  ?  That 
thought  struck  him  with  a  chill  of  apprehension.  He 
must  warn  her — how  ?  He  did  not  know  where  she 
•vras.  She  did  not  live  at  the  suspected  house  by  the 
statue  of  Hercules,  that  was  certain.  Where,  then, 
did  she  live  ?  Why  did  not  Viturius  return  ?  Surely 
he  might  have  traversed  the  city  twice  by  this  time. 
How  was  he  to  warn  her  ?  Not  by  a  message.  He, 
the  guardian  of  the  law,  to  warn  the  transgressors  of 
the  law,  and  so  assist  their  escape !  That  could  not  be. 
Yet  that  pure,  sweet  girl  must  not  fall  into  the  hands 
of  a  brutal  Tigellinus.  Ah,  her  purity ! — what  of  that  ? 
How  was  she  to  fare  with  him  ?  He  had  no  scruple ; 
•he  wag  to  be  his.  Of  course,  she  would  come  to  him. 
Was  he  quite  sure  of  that  ?  Something  in  those  cleai 
86 


THE   ARREST   OF   STEPHANUS 

innocent  eyes  gave  birth  to  a  momentary  doubt.  How 
lonely  the  palace  seemed — how  lonely  he  was!  Why 
had  he  not  arranged  some  feast  for  to-night?  There 
was  not  a  sound  anywhere  except  the  distant  hum  of 
the  city.  He  would  fare  forth  to  some  of  his  friends. 
Whom  ?  Who  was  there  to  interest  him  ?  Berenice  ? 
No.  Ancaria,  his  last  mistress  ?  No.  How  flaunting 
and  brazen  her  image  seemed  to  him  now.  What, 
in  the  name  of  all  the  gods,  was  Viturius  doing  that 
he  came  not?  Striking  the  gong,  again  he  inter- 
rogated the  negro  slave,  who  swiftly  glided  to  his 
master's  feet,  with  body  bent  and  eager,  watchful 
eyes,  ready  to  die  for  him  whom  he  worshipped,  con- 
tent that  he  should  put  his  foot  upon  his  neck  and 
crush  his  life's  breath  out  of  him  if  it  so  pleased 
him. 

"  Has  Viturius  returned  ?" 

"  No,  Excellence !" 

"  Send  him  to  me  the  moment  he  arrives." 

"Yes,  Excellence,"  and  with  swiftness  the  lithe  slave 
left  him  again  alone.  Alone  ?  Ye  gods !  how  much 
alone.  And  yet,  why  ?  Was  it  because  he  had  found, 
and  for  the  time  lost  his  other  self — his  soul's  affinity? 
What!  in  this  Christian  girl  ?  Ah,  no  I  how  could  it 
be? 

The  black  slave  noiselessly  re-entered,  and,  with  hit 
low,  salaam,  announced — 

"Viturius,  Excellence."  And  vanished  from  th« 
room  as  Viturius  entered. 

"At  last!"  breathed  Marcus.  "Well,  my  Viturius, 
what  news  ?" 

87 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

"  I  accompanied  Mercia  and  the  boy  to  her  home, 
but  it  was  some  distance,  Excellence;  near  to  the 
Palatine." 

"  She  is  safe  ?" 

"At  present,  Excellence,  but  she  is  closely  watched. 
The  spy,  Servilius,  must  have  followed  us,  for  I  saw 
him  near  her  house  as  I  returned." 

"  Servilius  ?  Is  that  the  man  who  was  with  Tigel- 
linus  ?" 

"  Yes,  Excellence." 

"  Then  Tigellinus  means  mischief,  that  is  sure.  Who 
lives  with  her  ?  Didst  thou  learn  ?" 

"  Yes,  Excellence ;  no  one  but  a  freedwoman,  who 
is  her  servant  and  only  companion." 

"  I  must  warn  her  of  her  danger.  If  Tigellinus  can, 
he  will  at  once  arrest  her.  I  will  go  to  her." 

"  Excellence,  forgive  thy  servant — but  is  that  wise 
or  safe  ?  Thou  knowest  the  jealousy  of  Tigellinus ;  if 
he  dared,  he  would  disgrace  thee  in  the  eyes  of  Caesar, 
for  his  own  advancement." 

"  That  I  know  full  well,  my  Viturius,  but  I  match 
my  wits  against  his.  Meantime,  keep  your  guard  ever 
at  hand.  By  some  means  I  will  reach  this  girl — at 
once.  Follow  me  at  a  safe  distance,  but  be  within  call. 
Choose  your  best  men  ;  at  any  moment  they  may  be 
required,  and  swords  must  be  ready  and  arms  strong. 
Go  1  lose  no  time." 

"  I  go,  Excellence."  And  the  fine  soldier,  who  knew 
no  will  but  his  officer's,  was  gone. 

Marcus  persuaded  himself  that  the  safety  of  Mercia 
and  her  friends  was  his  first  thought,  but  above  that 

88 


THE  ARREST  OF  STEPHANUS 

was  the  longing  and  yearning  to  look  upon  her  sweet 
face  again. 

The  house  of  Favius  was  simple  and  plain  even  to 
barrenness.  It  was  but  a  rude  hut  of  wood  and  rubble, 
with  a  slight  foundation  of  brick,  and  consisted  only  of 
two  small  rooms.  The  living  room  had  in  it  but  one 
rough  deal  table,  two  stools,  and  a  small  trunk,  which 
held  some  books  and  writings.  The  other  room  con- 
tained a  small  pallet  bed  couch  and  his  few  household 
necessaries. 

After  the  attack  upon  the  aged  Christian  he  had  re- 
turned home,  where  the  Galilean  fisherman  awaited 
him.  It  was  now  the  ninth  hour,  and  Stephanus,  hav- 
ing accompanied  Mercia  to  her  home,  had  returned  to 
Favius,  to  whom  he  acted  in  the  capacity  of  mes- 
senger. 

The  room  was  dimly  lit  by  an  oil  lamp,  placed  upon 
the  table  by  which  Favius  was  seated.  Titus  stood 
behind  it.  Both  were  deeply  interested  in  the  answers' 
which  the  boy,  Stephanus,  who  was  on  his  knees  by  the 
side  of  Favius,  was  making  to  their  questions. 

"And  Marcus  ordered  his  soldiers  to  accompany 
thee  ?"  said  Favius. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Stephanus. 

"He  had  speech  with  Mercia?" 

"  But  a  few  words." 

"  What  thou  hast  already  told  us  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  did  not  again  see  either  Tigellinus  or  the  spy  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Stephanus,  thou  art  but  a  child,  but  thou  knowest 
89 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

eril  from  good,"  said  Favius.  gently  stroking  the  boj'g 
curls. 

"Y«s,  my  father,"  answered  Stephanus,  looking  up 
»t  his  teacher  with  loving  reverence  and  trust. 

"And  thou  lovest  Mercia." 

"  I  do  love  Mercia,"  answered  Stephanus  earnestly. 

"  She  is  in  deadly  peril,  Stephanus  1"  At  these  words 
the  boy  started.  "  This  Marcus  seeks  her" — Favius 
hesitated — the  boy  would  not  understand  Mercia's 
peril,  and  he  said,  "  destruction.  He  is  bold,  unscru- 
pulous, and  powerful.  As  yet  he  knows  not  that 
Mercia  is  a  Christian,  but  she  is  suspected.  Thou  hast 
been  seen  in  her  company ;  it  may  be  that  thou  wilt  be 
arrested.  They  will  think  that  thou,  being  young, 
mayst  be  induced  to  betray  us  and  Mercia." 

"  I  betray  thee  and  Mercia  ?  Never,  father  !"  said 
Stephanus,  with  glowing  earnestness. 

"Thou  dost  know  what  the  Saviour  did  for  thee?" 
grarely  asked  the  reverend  man. 

"Ho  died  for  me."  And  the  boy's  face  shone  with  a 
•piritual  fire. 

Here  Titus  said,  with  tender  impressiveness — 

"  And  if  thou  betrayest  the  smallest  of  His  children, 
thou  betrayest  Him."  Titus  was  bending  over  the 
table  watching  the  boy's  face  intently. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  child. 

"  So  that  thou  wilt  be  faithful  ?"  asked  Titus. 

"  Unto  death !"  firmly  replied  Stephanus,  his  hands 
crossed  over  his  breast  and  his  eyes  uplifted. 

Patting  the  boy's  head    affectionately,  Favius  rose 
and,  leading  Stephanus  to  the  door,  said — 
90 


THE   ARREST   OF   STEPHANUS 

"  Novr  speed  thee  to  our  brother,  Melos.  Tell  him 
the  brethren  are  gathering  at  the  Grove  next  the 
Cestian  Bridge,  at  the  tenth  hour,  and  we  require  his 
presence.  Be  faithful  and  vigilant,  my  son.  Keep  to 
tbe  byways ;  see  that  thou  art  not  followed  or  watched. 
Go ;  and  may  the  Spirit  of  Him  we  serve  be  with  thee 
now  and  for  ever !" 

"Amen,  my  father,"  solemnly  answered  the  boy. 

Stealing  to  'the  door  and  looking  warily  out,  he 
swiftly  and  cautiously  ran  up  the  street,  while  Favius 
watched  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  closed  and  care- 
fully bolted  the  door,  saying  as  he  did  so,  with  a  tender 
smile  upon  his  face, — 

"A  brave  child,  and  faithful." 

"But  still  a  child,"  said  Titus,  with  a  warning  accent 
in  his  tone.  "  Why  choose  a  child  for  such  an  er- 
rand ?" 

"  Because  he  is  less  likely  to  be  suspected  and  fol- 
lowed. Until  he  was  seen  with  Mercia,  none  have  met 
him  with  the  brethren." 

"  Now  that  ho  has  been  seen,  take  my  counsel, 
brother,  and  choose  another  messenger,"  said  Titus. 

"  After  to-night  I  will,"  replied  Favius. 

At  this  moment  three  peculiar  knocks  were  heard 
upon  the  door,  and  Mercia's  voice  was  heard  calling — 

"  Father !     Open,  open  quickly !" 

Hurriedly  opening  the  door,  Favius  admitted  Mercia. 
She  was  excited  and  trembling.  Her  drapery  partly 
concealed  her  face.  This  she  removed  as  she  spoke, 
letting  it  fall  upon  the  table. 

"  What  is  it,  daughter  ?"  asked  Favius. 

91 


THE   SIGN    OF  THE   CROSS 

"  I  have  been  followed,  father,"  said  Mercia,  sinking 
into  a  seat  beside  the  table. 

1 '  Followed  ?    By  whom  ?" 

"  I  know  not.  As  I  left  my  bouse  I  saw  a  man  with 
his  mantle  over  his  face  start  up  from  behind  a  pillar. 
I  tried  to  elude  him  by  turning  back,  but  could  not.  I 
hid  in  a  doorway  and  he  passed  me.  When  he  was 
out  of  sight  I  ran  on  here."  Mercia  was  pale  and 
breathless. 

"  He  did  not  see  thee  enter  here  ?"  anxiously  asked 
Favius. 

"  I  think  not." 

Favius  turned  to  Titus,  who  had  been  eagerly  listen- 
ing to  Mercia's  story,  and  said,  in  his  rich,  deep,  mourn- 
ful tones, — 

.  "  Thou  seest,  Titus,  how  the  brethren  fare  in  Borne. 
Hunted  like  beasts — neither  age  nor  sex  is  regarded. 
At  his  last  Carnival  in  the  Amphitheatre,  Nero  threw 
young  maidens  into  the  arena,  where  hungry  tigers 
leapt  out  upon  them  and  lapped  up  their  blood ;  and 
they  died  glorifying  the  Shepherd.  The  aged  brethren 
he  ordered  to  fight  with  his  trained  gladiators,  and 
when  they  threw  down  their  weapons  and  refused  to 
defend  themselves,  Nero  commanded  the  gladiators  to 
slay  them  ;  and  they  died  praying  for  their  persecutors. 
Others  who  would  not  abjure  the  Saviour  he  coated 
with  pitch  and  set  up  on  high  poles  and  burned  as 
torches  to  light  up  his  infamous  orgies;  and,  as  they 
burned,  they  sang  the  song  of  the  Eedeemer.  Were 
they  not  faithful  unto  Him  ?"  And  the  face  of  Favius 
was  all  aglow  with  religious  ecstasy. 
92 


THE   ARREST   OF   STEPHANUS 

Titus  replied  with  kindred  fervency,  "  Yea,  brother, 
even  as  thou  art,  and  thou  wilt  be,  my  daughter,  when 
thy  time  comes.  So,  in  the  blood  of  the  saints,  the 
message  shall  be  written  to  the  whole  of  the  earth,  and 
to  the  millions  yet  unborn  the  glad  tidings  shall  be 
given  that  He  died  that  they  might  live." 

His  words  were  barely  uttered  when  a  loud  knocking 
was  heard  at  the  door.  The  impatient  summons  bore 
no  resemblance  to  the  signal  in  use  among  the  brethren. 
This  must  be  a  stranger.  While  Favius  went  to  the 
door  and  asked,  "Who  knocks?"  Mercia  arose  and 
stood  by  Titus  in  breathless  suspense. 

"  Open  and  see,"  said  a  voice  outside.  It  was  the 
weak  and  quavering  tone  of  an  aged  man. 

"  What  want  ye  ?"  asked  Favius. 

"  Speech  with  Favius,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Do  I  know  thee  ?" 

"  Open  and  see." 

"  Dost  know  the  voice  ?"  Titus  asked. 

"  It  reminds  me  of "  Mercia  was  about  to  con- 
tinue, but  the  loud  knocking  began  again. 

"  Better  open  the  door,"  said  Titus. 

"Yes,  but  go  thou  within,  Mercia,"  urged  Favius. 

"  Yes,  father ;"  and  going  to  the  inner  door,  which 
Titus  held  open  for  her,  she  left  them.  Cautiously 
Favius  opened  the  outer  door,  and  an  old  man,  in  a 
cloak  and  hood  drawn  well  over  his  face,  entered,  say- 
ing as  he  did  so — 

"  Hail,  Favius !" 

"  Who  art  thou  ?"  said  Favius,  closing  the  door,  but 
leaving  it  unfastened. 

93 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

The  stranger  did  not  answer,  but,  looking  hard  at 
Titus,  asked — 

"  Who  is  that  with  thee  ?" 

"  A  friend,"  said  Favius. 

"Is  he  of  Eome?"  asked  the  man,  still  carefully 
watching  Titus. 

Titus  answered  for  himself  and  said,  "No." 

"  May  I  speak  before  him  ?"  asked  the  stranger  of 
Favius. 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  May  I  ?"  persisted  the  man. 

"You  may.     But  who  art  thou?" 

"  My  name  is  Tyros,"  said  the  man  with  barely  per- 
ceptible hesitation.  "  I  am  a  boatman  of  the  Tiber, 
but  I  wax  old  apace  and  my  arms  grow  too  feeble  for 
my  work." 

Favius,  pointing  to  the  stool,  courteously  requested 
the  man  to  be  seated,  and  asked — 

"  What  is  thy  errand,  Tyros  ?" 

Sitting  down,  the  man  gave  a  slight  start,  as  he 
touched  the  drapery  Mercia  had  left  upon  the  table ; 
but  he  continued — 

"  Thou  wert  accused  to-day  of  being  a  Christian." 

"  I  was,"  quietly  answered  Favius. 

"  Art  thou  ?" 

Favius  paused  before  replying,  and  regarded  the 
•tranger  earnestly.  Then  he  said,  "  What  gives  thee 
the  right  to  question  ?" 

"  The  wish  to  serve  thee,"  said  his  visitor. 

"How  canst  thou  serve  me?"  noting  the  apparent 
poverty  of  the  man. 

94 


THE  ARREST   OF   STEPHANUS 

"  It  may  seem  strange  to  thee,  but  I  know  men  who 
have  influence  with  those  who  sit  in  high  places ;  those 
who  have  the  power  over  life  and  death.  Some  there 
be  who  hate  these  Christians  as  men  do  hate  the 
plague." 

"That  all  men  know,"  sadly  acquiesced  Favius. 

And  the  man  went  on — 

"Others  there  be  who  care  little  one  way  or  the 
other,  but  who  must  obey,  and  will  obey,  blindly  those 
who  do  command  them." 

"Well?" 

"  And  still  others  who  would  fain  spare,  even  if 
guilty,  those  who  are  misguided,  or,  in  their  innocence, 
misled." 

At  this  the  stranger  looked  towards  the  door  of  the 
inner  room,  as  though  his  words  applied  to  iomeone 
there. 

"  Of  what  speak  you  now  ?" 

"Of  this  strange  worship,  this  foreign  superstition." 

"  Know  you  of  what  you  speak  ?"  Faviurasked,  with 
a  grave  smile. 

"  I  know  that  these  Christians  worship  strange,  new 
gods,  and  work  in  secret  to  overthrow  the  Government 
and  effect  the  downfall  of  Caesar." 

"  I  have  heard  no  such  tales,  sir,"  sternly  answered 
Favius.  "  It  has  been  told  me  that  they  worship  but 
one  God,  and  Him  the  Everlasting.  That  they  seek 
the  downfall  of  no  man,  even  be  he  such  a  thing  of  evil 
as  Nero,  the  monster  whom  you  call  your  king ;  whose 
mouth  is  full  of  bitterness  and  curses,  whose  feet  are 
swift  to  shed  blood,  under  whose  reign  Rome  hath 

95 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

become  as  a  wanton,  filled  with  lust  and  drunkenness. 
Woe  unto  him  and  unto  Borne,  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand."  And  the  old  Christian  towered 
above  the  stranger,  prophetic  alike  in  soaring  look 
and  warning  words.  But  Titus  arrested  his  further 
speech. 

"  Brother !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Thou  art  bold,  old  man.  That  speech,  heard  by 
other  ears  than  mine,  would  cost  thee  thy  life,  and  the 
lives  of  all  who  consort  with  thee.  Have  a  care !"  said 
the  stranger  sternly. 

"Thy  errand,  Tyros?"  curtly  asked  Favius,  ignoring 
the  caution. 

"I  come  as  a  friend,  to  warn  thee.  Thou  art 
watched.  Beware  of  Tigellinus  and  Licinius,  for  they 
seek  thy  life  and  the  life  of  the  maiden  whom  thou 
dost  call  Mercia.  If  thou  beest  what  men  do  call  thee, 
followers  of  this  Christus,  for  the  sake  of  the  maiden, 
cast  her  from  thee.  Thou  art  old,  as  I  am,  and  thy 
time  draws  near;  she  is  young,  with  all  youth's  young 
blood  in  her  veins.  Let  her  live  her  little  life  in  happi- 
ness." 

"  Happiness  ?"  said  Favius.  "  Dost  thou  know  what 
that  word  means  ?" 

Crossing  to  the  door  of  the  inner  room,  he  called, 
"  Mercia !" 

"  Yes,  father !"  Mercia  called,  and  the  stranger  started, 
and  looked  eagerly  in  the  direction  from  which  the 
sound  of  Mercia's  voice  came. 

" Come  hither!" 

"  Yes,  my  father,"  said  Mercia,  entering  the  room. 
96 


THE   ARREST   OF  STEPHANUS 

The  stranger  surveyed  her  with  undisguised  interest, 
and  greeted  her  with — 

"  Hail,  gentle  lady !" 

Mercia  gazed  curiously  at  the  man,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"This  stranger  desires  me  to  cast  thee  from  me," 
Favius  said. 

"Why,  my  father?"  cried  Mercia,  startled  and 
alarmed. 

"  That  thou  mayst  live  in  the  world,  for  the  world,  as 
others  live  who  know  not  the  truth.  Wouldst  thou  so 
live?"  asked  Favius. 

"  No,  my  father,"  was  the  calm  and  firm  reply. 

"  He  saith  that  there  is  happiness." 

"He  knoweth  not  of  what  he  speaks,"  said  Mercia 
radiantly,  advancing  towards  the  stranger.  "  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but  righteousness 
and  peace  and  joy."  Then,  with  an  arresting  gesture, 
she  turned  to  Favius  and  cried,  "  Father,  this  is  the 
man  who  followed  me." 

"  Why  didst  thou  dog  this  maiden's  footsteps,  Tyros 
of  Tiber  ?"  asked  Favius. 

"  He  is  not  Tyros  of  Tiber,  but  Marcus  Superbus, 
Prefect  of  Rome,"  exclaimed  Mercia. 

"Marcus  the  Prefect?"  Favius  was  startled.  "Mar- 
cus?" looking  anxiously  at  the  cloaked  and  hooded 
figure. 

"  Dost  thou  deny  it  ?"  quietly  asked  Mercia. 

The  full,  deep  tones  of  Marcus  answered — 

"  Maiden,  those  eyes  are  as  keen  as  they  are  beauti- 
ful," and  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand  the  disguise  was 

7  97 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

brushed  aside,  and  Marcus  stood  revealed  in  the  humble 
garments  of  the  stranger. 

Mercia  instinctively  moved  towards  her  teacher, 
Favius. 

"  I  should  have  thought  Marcus  would  have  paid 
others  to  spy  for  him,"  said  Favius,  with  indignation. 

"  By  the  gods,  old  man,  and  so  he  might,"  answered 
Marcus.  "  But  there  was  someone  here  he  wished  to 
Bee  for  himself,  and  would  go  far  and  through  much  to 
behold.  Well,  Tyros  hath  no  existence,  but  Marcus 
lives,  and  would  fain  befriend  thee,  but  he  holds  Caesar's 
command  to  exterminate  all  Christians, — men,  women, 
and  children.  At  present  there  is  no  evidence  against 
thee ;  let  there  be  none,  for,  as  Caesar  liveth,  I  will  obey 
him.  For  thy  sweet  sake,  maiden,  I  would  do  much, 
but  my  duty  I  must  do.  So,  again,  be  warned  in  time !" 

Before  answer  could  be  made,  the  three  signal  knocks 
were  heard  at  the  outer  door,  and  Favius  asked,  "  Who's 
there?" 

"  Melos,  thy  friend,"  was  the  reply.  "  Haste ;  I  bring 
bad  tidings." 

"Enter,  Melos,"  said  Favius,  and  Melos  burst  into 
the  room,  excitedly  crying  as  he  did  so — 

"  Licinius  hath  arrested  Stephanus." 

"Arrested  Stephanus?"  cried  Mercia  in  great  dis- 
tress. 

"Yes,"  said  Melos,  "and "  here  he  caught  sight 

of  Marcus,  who  still  wore  the  cloak  in  which  he  had 
disguised  himself.     "  But  who  is  this  ?" 

"Marcus  Superbus,  Prefect  of  Eome,"  answered 
Marcus. 

98 


THE   ARREST  OF   STEPHANUS 

"  What  doth  he  here  ?"  asked  Melos  in  some  amaze- 
ment. 

"Let  that  rest.  Who  is  this  Stephanus?  The 
boy  I  saw  with  thee  ?"  questioned  Marcus  of  Mer- 
cia. 

"  Alas,  yes !"  answered  Mercia,  her  sweet  voice  broken 
with  tears. 

"  When  was  he  arrested  ?"  Marcus  asked  of  Melos. 

"  But  now,"  replied  Melos. 

"  By  Licinius  himself?" 

"  I — I "  And  Melos  hesitated,  knowing  not 

whether  Marcus  was  a  friend  or  an  enemy. 

"  Speak,  and  speak  quickly,"  haughtily  commanded 
Marcus. 

«  Yes." 

"  Whither  have  they  taken  him  ?" 

"  To  the  prison  of  the  district — and " 

"Tell  me  no  more,"  Marcus  interrupted;  and  hur- 
riedly turning  to  Mercia  and  her  friends,  he  said,  "  if 
that  boy  knows  aught  against  thee,  fly  the  city,  for  he 
will  be  made  to  speak  by  torture.  I  go  to  Licinius.  I 
cannot  prevent  him  doing  his  duty — I  may  stay  him 
from  doing  more.  Heed  my  words,  and  farewell. 
Lady,  I  am  thy  servant."  And,  with  a  low  bow  to 
Mercia,  he  was  gone. 

Mercia  had  watched  his  every  look  eagerly,  but  her 
heart  was  torn  for  the  boy,  and  she  said — 

"  Oh,  my  father,  poor  Stephanus !  Can  we  not  com- 
fort and  succour  him  ?" 

"  We  cannot,  but  there  is  One  who  will,"  reverently 
replied  Favius. 

99 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Would  that  I  could  be  near  him  to  share  his  pain," 
said  Mercia,  with  tears  in  her  beautiful  eyes. 

"There  is  other  work  for  thee,  my  daughter,"  Favius 
answered  kindly.  "  We  cannot  stay  our  march  because 
one  falleth  by  the  way.  Art  thou  afraid,  daughter  ?" 

There  was  a  look  of  divine  inspiration  on  the  face  of 
Mercia,  as  she  replied — 

"  Nay,  my  father.  That  which  He  calleth  upon  me 
to  do,  I  will  do,  let  the  task  be  what  it  may ;  I  have 
set  my  hand  to  the  plough,  and  I  will  not  look  back." 

"Even  though  death  and  the  grave  lie  before  thee?" 

"  Even  though  death  and  the  grave  lie  before  me." 

"  Let  us  go  hence,"  said  Favius,  after  an  instant's 
solemn  silence.  "  AVe  cannot  stay  the  brethren  ;  they 
are  by  this  time  on  their  several  ways  to  the  trysting- 
place  by  the  waters  of  Tiber.  Let  us  go  to  them,  to 
pray  or  to  suffer  with  them  as  He  willeth.  Though  the 
wicked  encompass  us  around,  He  will  be  with  us,  and 
though  we  go  down  into  the  depths,  He  will  uplift  us." 

And  together  they  started  on  what  was  to  prove,  to 
two  at  least  of  this  devoted  little  band,  their  last 
earthly  journey. 


100 


CHAPTER   X 

THE  TORTURING  OF  STEPHANUS 

AFTER  leaving  Favius,  Stephanus  ran  swiftly  in  the 
direction  of  the  house  in  which  Melos  lived.  Fast  as 
he  travelled  he  did  not  outstrip  the  spy,  Servilius,  who 
had  been  watching  the  dwelling-place  of  Favius,  and 
was  now  pursuing  him.  Darting  into  the  shadows, 
hiding  when  Stephanus  turned  his  head,  Servilius  kept 
the  boy  well  in  sight  the  whole  way.  As  Stephanu& 
neared  the  residence  of  the  employer  of  Melos,  Ser- 
vilius saw  Melos  leave  it  and  meet  the  boy;  they 
stopped  by  a  colonnade  of  arches,  behind  which  the  spy 
crept  until  he  was  separated  from  them  by  the  width 
of  a  marble  column  only,  and  low  as  was  the  hurried 
conversation,  he  overheard  it.  Stephanus  was  about 
to  tell  Melos  the  place  of  meeting  of  the  Christians  for 
the  night,  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  evil  face  of  the 
spy  peering  at  him  from  behind  the  pillar.  Clutching 
the  arm  of  Melos,  he  stopped  speaking  and  drew  him 
away.  Together  they  crossed  the  street,  and  Servilius 
sped  on  to  tell  Licinius,  the  aedile  of  the  district,  what 
he  had  seen  and  heard.  Licinius  immediately  de- 
spatched guards  in  every  direction  to  trace  and  arrest 
Stephanus. 

Melos  had  gone  to  pass  the  name  of  the  trysting- 
place  round  among  the  brethren,  while  Stephanua 
started  to  walk  to  the  Cestian  Bridge  alone.  He  had 
101 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

not  gone  far  before  he  was  seized  by  two  of  the  guards 
sent  out  by  Licinius,  and  by  them  dragged  to  the 
prison.  No  answer  was  made  to  his  questions,  no  ex- 
planation given  as  to  the  cause  of  his  arrest.  It  was 
evidently  the  intention  of  Licinius  to  terrify  him  into 
betraying  his  associates.  To  this  end  he  ordered  the 
soldiers  to  chain  the  boy's  wrists  together,  and  thrust 
him  into  a  filthy  cell  below  the  level  of  the  river.  One 
small  torch  gave  a  fitful  light  to  this  noisome  hole ;  the 
floor  was  dank  and  green  with  ooze,  and  the  boy's  bare 
feet  slipped  over  it  whenever  he  attempted  to  move. 
The  place  was  empty ;  he  could  not  lie  down  upon  the 
slimy  stones,  and  it  was  too  small  to  walk  about  in. 
Fungi  of  fantastic  shapes  formed  blotches  on  the  walls, 
and  the  place  smelt  like  the  foul  and  gruesome  vault 
that  it  was. 

Licinius  had  despatched  an  urgent  message  to  Tigel- 
linus,  telling  him  how  he  had  arrested  Stephanus,  who 
could  give  valuable  information  concerning  the  Chris- 
tians Marcus  had  protected  that  day,  and  begging  him 
to  be  present  at  the  examination  of  the  prisoner. 
While  he  waited  for  the  answer,  the  poor  boy  was  left 
shivering  in  his  cell,  a  prey  to  anxiety  and  fear. 
Although  he  had  not  been  told,  he  readily  guessed  the 
nature  of  the  charge  that  would  be  made  against  him. 
His  associations  with  the  Christians  had  been  discov- 
ered, and  he  felt  that  no  mercy  would  be  shown  him 
on  the  score  of  his  youth.  '"What  his  fate  would  be  he 
divined  and  shuddered  at.  How  many  of  his  friends 
had  disappeared  suddenly,  never  to  be  seen  again  save 
in  the  arena,  or  at  one  of  Nero's  revolting  feasts !  All 
102 


THE   TORTURING   OF  STEPHANUS 

the  stories  he  had  heard  of  the  horrible  deaths  by 
burning,  by  the  wild  beasts,  and  by  gladiators,  came 
back  to  him  with  a  vividness  that  made  him  tremble. 
He  could  have  screamed  aloud,  but  he  remembered  the 
words  of  the  revered  Favius,  "  Thou  wilt  be  faithful,  my 
son  ?"  and  his  own  promise,  "  Unto  death,  my  father  !" 

"  Unto  death !"  Yea,  death  was  a  terrible  thing ; 
and  this  foul  dungeon;  if  he  were  not  slain,  would 
they  keep  him  there  always?  Would  not  death  be 
preferable  ?  «  Unto  death !"  Had  he  not  been  taught 
that  death  was  but  a  stepping-stone  to  life?  Had 
not  He  died  that  all  might  live  ?  Yes !  He  would  be 
brave  and  endure  for  His  sake.  Still,  he  was  but  a 
child,  and  his  heart  sank  with  terror,  and  his  body  trem- 
bled at  the  thought  of  what  he  was  about  to  suffer. 

Eager  to  find  some  excuse  for  undermining  the 
friendship,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  of  Nero  for  Mar- 
cus, Tigellinus  had  at  once  yielded  to  the  request  of 
Licinius  that  he  should  be  present  at  the  examination 
of  Stephanus,  and,  accompanied  by  his  guards,  he 
hastened  to  the  prison  where  the  frightened  little  cap- 
tive lay. 

This  Licinius  was  a  plebeian  sedile.  His  office  car- 
ried with  it  curiously  varied  duties.  The  sediles  had 
the  care  of  the  public  buildings, — the  temples,  theatres, 
baths,  aqueducts,  roads,  and  sewers.  They  inspected 
the  markets  and  the  provisions  exposed  for  sale  there. 
They  broke  unjust  weights  and  measures,  limited  the 
expense  of  funerals,  fixed  rates  of  interest  with  the 
money-lenders,  banished  men  and  women  of  bad  char- 
acter, after  trial,  and  were  empowered  to  take  precau- 
103 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

tions  against  any  new  gods  or  religious  ceremonies 
being  introduced.  To  them,  therefore,  fell  the  task  of 
watching  and  detecting  the  Christians.  According  to 
the  statutes,  the  aediles  had  no  power  to  arrest  save  by 
the  order  of  the  Prefects  or  Consuls ;  but  in  the  case 
of  the  Christians,  so  hated  and  loathed  were  they,  the 
laws  were  often  contravened  and  defied,  to  enable 
wholesale  arrests  to  be  made. 

This  particular  sedile,  Licinius,  was  a  remorseless, 
bloodthirsty,  and  ambitious  man,  who  sought  to  gain 
promotion  by  an  excess  of  vigilance  in  persecuting 
the  unhappy  Christians,  hoping,  by  so  doing,  to  curry 
favour  with  those  who  had  the  power  to  advance  him. 
He  was  but  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  Tigellinus,  from 
whose  influence  he  expected  much. 

It  was  into  the  power  of  this  man  that  poor  little 
Stephanus  had  fallen ;  he  had,  indeed,  cause  to  tremble 
and  be  afraid.  In  a  room  above  him  were  Tigellinus 
and  the  aedile,  questioning  the  spy,  Servilius.  The  two 
officers,  richly  dressed,  grim,  grizzled,  fierce,  and  re- 
lentless, were  seated  at  a  table ;  the  spy  cringing  and 
fawning  at  their  feet ;  the  guards,  heavily  armed,  at 
the  doors,  silent  and  immovable  as  statues.  The  room 
was  ill-lit  by  a  lamp  which  threw  distorted  and  mon- 
strous shadows  crawling  up  the  walls  and  on  to  the 
ceiling  and  back  again,  as  the  lamp  flared  up  or  flick- 
ered down.  The  voices  of  the  officers  were  subdued, 
but  firm  and  authoritative,  as  they  put  question  after 
question  to  the  spy,  who  paused  for  a  moment,  to  be 
sharply  ordered  by  Tigellinus  to  "  Go  on !" 

"  I  followed  him  until  he  met  one  Melos.  I  heard 
104 


THE  TORTURING  OF  STEPHANUS 

him  say,  '  The  brethren  meet  at '  then  he  saw  me 

and  ceased  at  once.     I  came  on  here  to  inform  the 
eedile,"  said  Servilius. 

"Hast  thou  yet  seen  him?"    asked  Tigellinus  of 
Licinius. 

"No,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Bring  him  before  us,"  ordered  Tigellinus,  and  the 
guards  left  the  room. 

"We  must  terrify  the  boy  into  confession.  This 
girl,  Mercia,  may  be  useful  to  us,  can  we  but  get  her 
into  our  hands,"  said  Tigellinus. 

The  guards  returned,  dragging  with  them  Stephanus, 
who  was  pale,  but  who  still  had  a  look  of  determination 
on  his  young  face.  At  his  heels  followed  a  jailer,  a 
big,  burly  brute  of  a  man,  with  a  bushy,  black  beard, 
who  held  a  whip  of  several  knotted  cords  in  his  hand. 
The  guards  roughly  thrust  Stephanus  into  the  room. 
Tigellinus  furtively  peered  at  him  for  a  moment  before 
he  asked — 

"  Thy  name,  boy  ?" 

"  Stephanus,"  he  answered. 

"  Art  thou  a  Christian  ?" 

Stephanus  hesitated  a  moment ;  to  confess  this  was 
death.  He  replied,  "  I  serve  my  Master." 

"  Where  dwelleth  he  ?"  asked  Tigellinus. 

"By  the  right  hand  of  the  Father."  replied  the 
trembling  boy. 

''•Answer  directly,  you  cub  of  darkness!"  said 
Licinius.  "  Cease  this  jargon,  or  the  jailer's  whip 
shall  let  it  out  with  thy  blood.  Art  thou  a  Christian  ? 
Answer  1" 

105 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  I  have  answered,"  murmured  Stephanus. 

"  Answer  again,"  fiercely  said  Tigellinus.  "  Art  thou 
a  worshipper  of  the  strange  god,  Anakoites  ?" 

The  boys  lips  quivered.  These  two  strange,  merci- 
less men  were  watching  his  every  movement !  they,  the 
guards,  the  jailer,  were  all  so  big  and  strong,  and  he  so 
small  and  weak !  He  looked  round,  as  though  search- 
ing for  some  means  of  escape.  His  utter  helplessness 
was  so  evident  that  he  felt  nothing  that  he  could  either 
do  or  say  could  save  him,  and  a  great  lump  arose  in  his 
throat  and  prevented  him  answering  Tigellinus,  who 
repeated  his  question  with  redoubled  sternness. 

"  Dost  thou  hear  me,  boy  ?  Art  thou  a  follower  of 
this  strange  god,  Anakoites  ?" 

Then  his  teaching  came  to  his  aid,  and  he  replied, 
almost  joyfully, — 

"NM  I  worship  the  living  God;  no  brazen  image 
of  any  kind!" 

Half  rising,  with  a  hideous  scowl  upon  his  forbid- 
ding face,  Licinius  demanded — 

"  Are  you  a  follower  of  this  Nazarene — this  Chris- 
tian? Answer,  you  spawn  of  evil!" 

Stephanus  trembled,  but  was  silent.  Licinius  gave 
the  jailer  a  sign,  and  he  raised  his  whip,  and  the  cruel 
thongs  decended  upon  the  boy's  thinly-clad  shoulders 
and  twined  themselves  around  his  arms  and  breast  like 
snakes  of  fire,  eating  their  way  into  his  flesh.  The  boy 
gave  a  muffled  cry  like  that  of  some  wounded  animal, 
but  no  other  sound  passed  his  bloodless  lips. 

"  Answer!"  again  roared  Licinius.  "  Follow  you  this 
Christus  ?" 

1 06 


THE  TORTURING   OF   STEPHANUS 

The  pain  was  horrible,  but  the  child  set  his  teeth  to 
bear  it  unflinchingly,  and  answered — 

"  I  will  not  deny  my  Master ;  I  do." 

"Ah  !"  grunted  Licinius,  with  a  grin  of  satisfaction. 

Now  Tigellinus  took  up  the  examination.  "  This  man 
heard  thee  tell  Melos  that  the  brethren  meet  to-night. 
Who  are  the  brethren  ?" 

"  That  I  will  not  tell." 

"  Where  is  the  place  of  meeting  ?" 

"  I  will  not  say." 

"  Thou  dost  know  it  ?" 

"  I  do  know  it." 

"  Then  tell  it,"  interposed  Licinius. 

"  I  will  not  tell  it." 

"  Let  him  taste  that  whip  once  more,"  cried  Licinius. 

Again  the  jailer  lashed  the  poor  boy,  who  fell  to  the 
ground  with  a  stifled  cry  of  pain. 

"  Thou  shalt  answer,  or  I  will  slay  thee." 

Faintly  the  boy  replied — 

"  Thou  canst  slay  my  body ;  thou  canst  not  kill  my 
soul." 

"  Answer,  and  save  thyself  further  pain,"  said  Tigel- 
linus. 

"  He  who  suffered  for  me  will  help  me,"  moaned  the 
boy. 

"  The  calmness  of  these  fanatics  passes  my  under- 
standing," muttered  Tigellinus.  "  Put  him  to  the  rack 
— that  will  shake  his  calmness,"  said  Licinius.  "  Stay 
— once  more,  boy — give  us  the  names  of  the  brethren 
and  their  place  of  meeting,  and  we  may  pardon  thee," 
urged  Tigellinus. 

107 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Thou  mayst  pardon  me,  but  not  my  conscience." 

"  Thou  dost  refuse,  then  ?"  asked  Licinius. 

"  I  do,"  firmly  answered  the  trembling  child. 

"Enough.  Put  him  to  the  rack,"  commanded  Li- 
cinius. 

"The  rack!"  What  was  that?  Stephanus  had 
heard  vaguely  of  this  torture,  but  nothing  distinct  or 
clear.  Poor  little  fellow  !  he  was  to  learn  all  too  soon. 
He  was  dragged  into  an  adjoining  apartment,  followed 
by  Tigellinus,  Licinius,  and  Servilius.  The  floor  and 
walls  were  of  stone.  Hung  round  it  were  strange  in- 
struments of  unusual  shapes.  There  was  an  iron  vice 
in  the  shape  of  a  boot,  worked  with  a  screw,  which, 
when  the  victim's  foot  had  been  placed  within  it,  was 
contracted,  crushing  it  to  a  pulp,  if  he  refused  to  confess. 
There,  a  huge  wheel  on  an  axle,  which  could  be  turned 
swiftly  when  the  person  to  be  tortured  had  been  bound 
to  tbe  wheel,  and  he  would  be  whirled  round  and  round 
until  unconsciousness  or  death  came  to  relieve  his 
agony.  There  was  a  brazier  for  heating  pincers  white 
hot  to  tear  the  flesh  in  pieces  from  the  body ;  and,  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  was  a  structure  like  a  rough 
hobby-horse,  made  of  two  stout  beams  of  wood ;  this 
was  called  by  the  Eomans,  Equuleus.  Stephanus  was 
set  astride  this  and  forced  on  his  back;  his  arms  and 
legs  were  bound  at  the  wrists  and  ankles  with  strong 
cords,  called  fidiculaB,  and  these  were  connected  with 
pulleys  and  windlasses,  which,  when  turned,  tightened 
the  cords  and  wrenched  apart  the  victim's  joints  and 
muscles  until  either  he  confessed  or  died. 

While  these  preparations  were  being  made,  Tigellinus 
1 08 


THE  TORTURING   OF   STEPHANUS 

and  his  subordinate,  from  a  corner  of  the  room,  looked 
on,  with  no  more  concern  for  the  suffering  they  were 
about  to  inflict  than  they  would  have  felt  over  the 
piecing  together  of  a  bit  of  machinery. 

"  If  we  could  but  drag  Marcus  into  this,"  Tigellinus 
whispered. 

"  Nero  will  believe  no  evil  of  his  paragon,"  said  Li- 
cinius,  with  a  bitter  sneer. 

"  Excite  his  fears,  he  will  believe  anything,"  was  the 
reply.  "  He  starts  at  shadows — shudders  at  the  fall  of 
a  leaf.  Each  bush  to  him  hides  an  assassin, — poison 
lurks  in  every  dish, — the  very  air  to  him  is  peopled 
with  the  ghosts  of  those  he  hath  slaughtered.  He  dare 
not  go  on,  yet  dare  not  stay.  Once  rouse  his  fears " 

"Well?" 

"Now,  Marcus,  I  verily  believe,  doth  love  this  girl 
Mercia.  If  that  is  so,  we  must  arrest  her.  Marcus' 
temper  will  bear  no  opposing  will,  not  even  that  of 
Nero.  He  will  go  to  any  length — run  any  risk  to  set 
her  free  again.  What  more  simple  than  to  urge  him 
on  to  some  act  of  folly  or  disobedience  that  will  bring 
him  into  disgrace  with  Nero  ?  But  see,  they  are  ready," 
he  interrupted,  making  towards  the  rack,  where  the 
prisoner  lay  bound. 

Bending  over  him,  Tigellinus  said — 

"  Now,  boy,  answer  our  questions,  and  save  thyself. 
Eefuse  again  and  the  jailers  shall  force  those  cranks 
and  rend  thee  limb  from  limb.  Wilt  answer  ?" 

Terror  assailed  the  heart  of  Stephanus,  but  he  fought 
it  back,  and  stoutly  answered — 

"No." 

109 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

Tigellinus  signalled  to  the  jailers.  They  gave  two 
sudden  and  sharp  turns  to  the  windlasses.  This  tight- 
ened up  the  cords  which  bound  the  wrists  and  ankles 
of  Stephanus,  and  the  muscles  of  his  limbs  were 
stretched  and  lacerated  under  horrible  tension.  The 
beams  were  opened,  and  the  body  of  the  boy  hung  sus- 
pended by  the  cords.  The  agony  was  unendurable, 
and  forced  from  the  child  a  piercing  shriek  which  should 
have  penetrated  the  most  hardened  heart ;  it  did  not 
touch  these  men.  Great  beads  of  perspiration  covered 
the  body  and  face  of  Stephanus ;  the  veins  of  his  fore- 
head stood  out  like  whipcord,  and  his  teeth  chattered 
and  rattled  together.  Servilius  looked  on  with  a  smile 
that  distorted  his  face  like  the  snarl  of  a  wolf. 

"  Wilt  answer  now  ?"  fiercely  demanded  Licinius. 

"I  cannot  bear  it!  Mercy!  Mercy!"  screamed 
Stephanus,  who  had  scarcely  heard  the  question. 

"  Answer,  then  !"  said  Tigellinus. 

"  I  dare  not !"  moaned  the  tortured  boy. 

"Again,"  said  Licinius,  with  a  motion  of  his  band  to 
the  jailers.  And  again  the  cruel  rack  was  turned  until 
the  sinews  and  muscles  of  arms  and  legs  were  torn, 
and,  with  another  appalling  scream,  the  child  swooned. 

Bending  over  him,  Tigellinus,  in  a  hard,  callous  tone, 
laid — 

"He  hath  fainted.     Release  him." 

Quickly  the  jailors  unbound  the  boy,  and,  after  dash- 
ing some  water  in  his  face,  followed  Tigellinus  and 
Licinius  into  the  other  room,  bearing  the  senseless  body 
of  Stephanus  between  them.  Placing  it  upon  the  floor, 
they  retired. 

110 


THE  TORTURING   OF  STEPHANUS 

Licinius,  kneeling  on  one  knee,  lifted  the  boy's  head 
and  felt  his  heart.  Turning  to  the  jailers,  he  said 
coldly — 

"  Some  wine." 

As  he  poured  some  of  the  liquid  down  the  throat  of 
Stephanus,  Tigellinus  took  the  lamp  and  quietly  waited 
for  signs  of  returning  consciousness.  A  slight  shiver 
of  the  body,  a  movement  of  the  head,  and  a  low  moan 
convinced  him  that  the  swoon  was  passing,  and  he  said 
cold  I}7 — 

"  He  recovers." 

"  Spare  me,  oh,  spare  me !"  gasped  Stephanus 
wildly. 

"Answer,  then." 

Faintly  and  mechanically  the  boy's  lips  moved,  and 
he  gasped  out — 

"  The  Grove." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  By  the  Cestian  Bridge." 

"The  hour?" 

"  Ten."     And  Stephanus  sank  to  the  floor. 

"  Ah,  my  Tigellinus,  we  have  them — we  have  them  !" 
cried  Licinius  in  triumph.  And  of  Stephanus  he 
asked — 

"  Their  names  ?" 

"  I  cannot,"  moaned  Stephanus. 

«  You  shall !" 

But  Stephanus,  despite  his  agony,  remembered  his 
promise,  and  cried  passionately — 

"  I  will  not !     Kill  me— kill  me !" 

"  Ah,  no  1  the  dead  speak  not.  We  want  thy  answers, 
III 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

and  we  will  have  them.     The  names  of  these  Chris- 
tians, give  them  to  us,"  said  Licinius. 

"  I  will  not,"  replied  Stephanus,  moaning  with  pain. 

Furious  at  what  he  considered  mere  obstinacy, 
Licinius  ordered  the  jailers  to  put  him  again  on  the 
rack ;  but  ere  they  could  carry  out  their  orders,  a  quick 
step  echoed  along  the  stone  corridor;  the  door  was 
opened,  and  Marcus  entered  the  room. 

"  The  rack  for  this  child  1"  he  said  indignantly. 
"  Shame !  Set  the  boy  down." 

"  Obey  me,  men !"  shouted  Licinius. 

"  Obey  me,"  said  Marcus  quietly,  but  firmly. 

The  men  hesitated,  looking  from  one  to  the  other, 
not  knowing  whom  to  obey.  Tigellinus,  scowling  at 
Marcus,  asked — 

"How  darest  thou  presume?" 

"  Dare  presume  ?"  smiled  Marcus  scornfully.  Then, 
turning  to  the  jailers,  be  said,  "  Set  that  boy  down,  or, 
as  Csesar  liveth,  thou  shalt  take  his  place." 

The  men  placed  Stephanus  on  the  floor  with  more 
gentleness  than  they  had  hitherto  shown. 

"  This  is  treason  against  Csesar,  and,  as  Ca?sar  liveth, 
thou  shalt  answer  it  to  Caesar!"  furiously  hissed  the 
Councillor. 

"I  will  answer  it.  I  have  Caesar's  orders,  and  I 
execute  them  as  I  think  fit." 

"Thou  dost  not  execute  them,  Marcus.  Thou  art 
shielding  these  Christians,  and  thou  art  a  traitor!" 
shouted  Licinius. 

Going  swiftly  to  him,  and  half  drawing  his  sword, 
Marcus  said — 

112 


THE  TORTURING  OF  STEPHANUS 

"  Eecall  that  word !  Eecall  it,  or,  sedile  or  no  sedile, 
I  will  cleave  thee  from  thy  head  to  thy  heart.  Eecal] 
the  word !" 

"  Licinius  was  hasty,  he  did  not  mean "  interposed 

Tigellinus. 

"  I  desire  not  thy  apology,  but  his.  Eecall  that  word 
'  traitor' !"  repeated  Marcus. 

Tigellinus  whispered  aside  to  the  sedile,  "We  shall 
let  them  slip.  Give  way." 

"  I  was  too  hasty — I  regret "  sulkily  said  Li- 
cinius. 

With  a  contemptuous  wave  of  his  hand,  Marcus  dis- 
missed both  officers.  Enraged  as  they  both  were, 
they  could  not  but  yield  to  Marcus.  He  was  the 
Prefect,  and  held  Caesar's  mandate  for  the  suppression 
of  this  new  sect ;  and  they  could  not  dictate  to  him 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  that  work  should  be  done. 
Tigellinus  plucked  the  snarling  sedile  by  the  sleeve,  and 
said — 

"  Come,  Licinius,  we  have  other  work  to  do.  Cap- 
tain, get  thy  men  and  follow  me,"  he  called  to  that  offi- 
cer. "  Jailer,  see  to  the  boy.  Come,  come,  we  shall  be 
late !"  and  he  hurried  the  sedile  away. 

Marcus,  meantime,  had  gone  quickly  to  the  fainting 
Stephanus,  and,  with  great  gentleness,  lifted  his  head 
from  the  ground.  Turning  to  the  jailer,  he  asked — 

"  Is  that  wine  there  ?" 

"  Yes,  Prefect." 

"  Give  it  to  me.     Have  they  had  him  on  the  rack  ?" 

"Yes,  Prefect." 

"  The  cowards !  The  wolves  !"  said  Marcus.  Then, 
8  113 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

with  infinite  tenderness,  he  turned  to  Stephanus,  and, 
offering  him  the  wine,  said — 

"  Come,  boy,  come ;  take  this." 

"  Oh,  the  pain,  the  pain  !"  moaned  the  child. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  know,  I  know !"  said  Marcus,  with  gentle 
sympathy.  "  But  drink  this — 'twill  revive  thee." 

"  Nay,  let  me  die !  Kill  me,  in  mercy,  kill  me !  I 
have  hetrayed  them,"  sobbed  Stephanus. 

"  What  mean  you  ?"  wonderingly  asked  Marcus. 

"  It  was  not  my  heart,  but  my  tongue  that  spoke.  I 
told  them  where  the  brethren  meet  to-night." 

"  Who  are  the  brethren  ?" 

"I  dare  not  tell — but  if  you  would  save  Mercia " 

"Mercia!"  Marcus  started  in  surprise  and  alarm. 
Could  she  be  in  danger  ?  She,  whom  he  had  but  now 
left  with  a  warning  to  escape  !  Quickly  and  anxiously 
he  asked — 

«  Mercia !     What  of  her  ?" 

"  She  will  be  there." 

"Where?" 

"  In  the  Grove  by  the  Cestian  Bridge." 

"  Didst  thou  tell  this  to  Tigellinus  ?" 

"  Not  the  names,  but  the  meeting-place." 

These  two  then  did  know,  and  had  probably  gone 
thither  to  arrest  her ! 

"  And  Mercia  is  to  be  there  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.  Kill  me,  but  save  her!  She  is  an  angel. 
Save  her,  and  let  me  die !  Save  her !"  Stephanus 
sobbed  wildly. 

Instantly  all  the  soldier  was  alert  in  Marcus,  and,  in 
ringing,  commanding  tones,  he  summoned  Yiturius — 
114 


THE   TORTURING   OF  STEPHANUS 

"  Meet  me  with  thy  men  in  the  Cestian  Grove.  There 
is  a  gathering  there  of  Christians,  and  amongst  them 
is  the  girl  Mercia,"  and  his  voice  trembled  a  little  as  he 
spoke  the  beloved  name.  "  We  must  save  her  from 
Tigellinus,  even  though  we  anger  Nero  himself.  Haste, 
Yiturius,  haste!" 

As  Viturius  left  the  room,  Marcus  lifted  the  boy 
gently  in  his  arms,  and,  bearing  him  to  the  door 
said — 

"  My  poor  child !     Come." 

"  But  the  boy,  Prefect  ?"  asked  the  jailer,  remember- 
ing the  order  of  Tigellinus  that  he  was  to  look  to  him. 

"Leave  him  to  me;  I  will  be  answerable  for  him," 
said  Marcus  sternly.  "  Come,  my  boy." 

And,  as  he  went,  Stephanus  continued  to  sob,  "  Kill 
me !  I  am  not  fit  to  live !  Kill  me — kill  me  !" 

Great  as  was  his  pain  of  body,  the  agony  of  his 
remorse  was  greater  still.  He  had  betrayed  his  Master 
in  betraying  His  people.  But  the  poor  little  fellow 
uttered  the  truth  when  he  said,  "  It  was  not  my  heart, 
but  my  tongue  that  spoke." 


CHAPTER    XL 

THE   DEATH   OF  FAVIUS 

THE  gatherings  of  the  band  of  Christians,  of  whom 
Favius  was  the  recognized  head,  had  been  held  for 
some  time  past  in  a  granary  in  the  Palatine,  but  that 
had  been  so  closely  watched  of  late  that  it  was  deter- 
mined to  nightly  change  the  trysting-place.  As  Favius 
had  informed  Titus,  this  night  they  were  to  meet  in  a 
secluded  grove  near  the  Cestian  Bridge,  and  hither  the 
brethren  were  making  their  several  ways,  in  twos  and 
threes,  to  ward  off  suspicion. 

Having  much  matter  to  discuss,  Favius  and  Titus 
went  together,  leaving  Mercia  to  the  care  of  Melos. 
These  two  had  seen  but  little  of  each  other  of  late. 
Melos  was  too  manly  to  obtrude  himself  upon  Mercia 
after  her  rejection  of  him ;  he  felt  that  it  pained  her 
to  meet  him,  and  he  loved  the  gentle  girl  too  well  to 
cause  her  needlessly  one  heart-pang.  But  it  was  with 
a  secret  joy  that  he  obeyed  the  commands  of  Favius 
to  accompany  Mercia  to  the  place  of  meeting,  and,  as 
they  walked  along,  he  discoursed  of  Stephanus'  arrest, 
the  doings  and  dangers  of  the  brethren  —  indeed,  upon 
almost  any  subject  likely  to  interest  Mercia,  save  that 
only  which  was  nearest  to  his  heart — his  deep  and 
abiding  passion  for  her ;  but  she  was  silent  and  absent- 
minded.  At  first  he  was  inclined  to  attribute  this  to 
her  grief  for  Stephanus,  but,  although  it  was  evident 
Tl6 


THE   DEATH   OF   FAVIUS 

that  her  tender  soul  was  touched  by  the  boy's  arrest, 
the  quick  intuition  of  love  told  Melos  that  there  was 
another  and  a  deeper  cause  for  Mercia's  abstraction. 
Several  times  he  spoke  to  her,  and  she  heeded  him  not. 
Their  way  from  the  house  of  Favius  in  the  Palatine  lay 
through  some  narrow,  winding  streets,  which  led  to  the 
bridge ;  across  that  into  the  Grove,  which  grew  more 
dense  as  they  approached  the  meeting-place.  The  time 
was  early  autumn,  but  the  day  had  been  hot,  and  the 
evening  was  a  beautiful  reflex  of  summer.  The  moon 
was  full,  and  a  soft  haze,  which  arose  from  the  river 
and  the  marshes,  seemed  only  to  add  to  the  loveliness 
of  the  sky. 

The  city  was  quiet,  save  for  an  occasional  distant 
trumpet-call  or  strain  of  music  from  lutes  and  pipes,  or 
when  some  burst  of  noisy  laughter  broke  upon  the  still- 
ness of  the  air.  Almost  in  silence  Mercia  and  Melos 
walked  to  the  bridge  which  spanned  the  Tiber.  As 
they  neared  the  centre  of  it,  a  wailing  trumpet-call, 
rather  longer  than  the  others,  broke  upon  their  ears, 
and  Mercia  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  back  over 
the  city. 

"  What  was  that  ?"  she  asked. 

"  The  calling  together  of  some  of  the  guards  for  the 
night,"  answered  Melos. 

Mercia's  hand  clutched  nervously  at  the  bosom  of  her 
dress,  and  she  said — 

"  It  sounded  like  a  summons  to  the  grave  !" 

Melos  started,  struck  more  by  her  manner  than  her 
words ;  it  seemed  almost  prophetic.  A  chill  had  fallen 
upon  his  heart,  too,  but  he  knew  not  why.  After  a  time 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

he  gently  touched  Mercia's  arm ;  she  was  standing  quite 
still,  looking  back  over  the  city,  lost  to  all  her  sur- 
roundings. As  she  felt  the  pressure  of  Melos'  hand  she 
gave  a  little  sigh,  and,  turning  to  him,  said — 

"  Pardon  me,  dear  Melos.  I  am  not  myself  to-night. 
I  was  thinking — of " 

"What,  my  sister?" 

For  answer  Mercia  blushed,  and,  in  an  instant,  Melos 
knew — her  thoughts  were  of  Marcus.  Ah !  it  was  as  if 
a  knife  had  entered  his  heart.  This  was  to  be  the  end 
of  all  his  hopes, — Mercia's  love  for  another.  Now  he 
knew, — and  Mercia  felt  that  he  knew.  Her  eyes  fell 
before  his;  he  stood  looking  sadly  at  her.  The  old 
Tiber  rolled  lazily  along  under  their  feet ;  the  splash  of 
the  waters  against  the  buttresses  of  the  bridge  and  the 
banks  could  be  plainly  heard  in  the  silence,  and  those 
two,  neither  able  to  speak,  stood  still,  while  one  heart 
fluttered  with  strange  fears,  and  the  other  bled  in  hope- 
less agony.  A  fierce  pang  of  jealous  anger  swept  over 
Melos.  The  cause  of  the  visit  of  the  disguised  Marcus 
to  Favius  was  the  desire  to  see  Mercia.  He  knew  the 
character  of  the  Prefect.  To  him  Mercia  could  be  but 
the  toy  of  an  hour ;  her  sweet  innocence  might  inflame 
his  passion  for  the  moment,  but  it  was  not  in  his  nature 
to  be  constant  to  a  woman.  He  was  without  scruple, 
and,  where  women  were  concerned,  without  conscience. 
And  was  all  this  beauty  of  face  and  form,  and  love- 
liness of  soul,  to  be  made  the  sport  of  this  heartless 
patrician  ?  In  all  the  garden  the  sweetest,  tenderest, 
and  most  perfect  bud  had  caught  the  eye  of  the  lordly 
Marcus,  and  Melos  had  little  doubt  now  that  his  follow- 
118 


THE   DEATH   OF  FAVIUS 

ing  the  girl  to  the  house  of  Favius  meant  that  the 
flower  was  to  be  plucked,  let  the  cost  be  what  it  might. 
Marcus,  he  knew,  was  not  the  man 

"  Who,  with  the  choice  of  all  a  garden  fair, 
Would  choose  the  past  month's  rose,  withered  and  bare, 
Leaving  unplucked  the  fairest  flower  that  lived, 
To  gather  that  which  death  had  left  to  moulder  there." 

Oh,  wondrous  waywardness  of  love!  Surely  these 
two  seemed  pre-ordained  to  love  and  wed.  He,  manly, 
honest,  trusting,  loving;  she,  sweet  and  tender, 
womanly  and  true.  Their  religion,  their  hopes,  their 
lives,  ran  side  by  side,  and  yet  the  poles  were  not  more 
wide  apart  than  Mercia's  heart  from  Melos. 

So  ran  the  thoughts  of  Melos.  And  Mercia — what 
of  her?  The  look  of  Melos  had  told  her  what  she  had 
not  guessed  before :  that  she  loved  that  reckless,  bold,  un- 
scrupulous patrician,  Marcus ;  and  she  felt  a  deep  sense 
of  shame  and  unwomanliness  as  the  thought  flashed 
through  her  mind.  It  was  as  though  she  had  done  some 
unworthy  act,  committed  some  great  sin.  Love  this  man 
who,  she  had  been  told,  was  so  ignoble,  spite  of  his  noble 
birth  1  Love  this  profligate,  whose  life  was  a  continual 
offence  against  the  teachings  of  her  childhood  and  girl- 
hood !  Love  this  persecutor  of  her  faith,  this  friend  of 
the  Antichrist,  Nero,  who  had  murdered  her  parents 
and  her  brethren !  Oh,  the  shame  of  it — the  shame  of 
it !  She  could  have  covered  her  face  and  crept  away ; 
but  the  light  touch  of  the  hand  of  Melos,  and  his  quiet 
voice,  warned  her  to  command  her  feelings,  as  he  gently 
said — 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Come,  Mercia,  we  still  have  far  to  go ;  we  shall  be 
late." 

The  old  river  ran  to  the  sea,  inevitably,  as  always  it 
had  flowed,  and  would  for  ever  flow ;  and  the  streams 
of  these  two  lives  ran  on,  also,  swiftly,  silently,  but 
surely  on  and  on,  fulfilling  the  will  of  that  Divinity  that 
shapes  all  ends,  "  rough-hew  them  how  we  will."  Mercia 
loved  Marcus.  How  ?  Wherefore  ?  It  was  to  be  1 

"  'Twas  so  decreed — 'twas  part  of  nature's  plan, 

And  all  in  vain  we  strive  her  schemes  to  scan, 

Each  soul  had  met  its  soul's  affinity ; 

She  was  his  woman,  made, — he,  pre-ordained,  her  man." 

Poor  Melos !  Go,  eat  thine  heart  out  in  vain  long- 
ings :  Mercia  has  passed  out  of  thy  sphere,  never,  herer 
or  in  eternity,  to  re-enter  it.  He  knew  Marcus  was 
unworthy  of  her,  incapable  of  appreciating  her  worth. 
Should  he  tell  her  as  much  ?  To  what  end  ?  No ;  as 
well  try  to  stop  old  Tiber  as  the  course  of  love.  No ; 
he  would  be  silent,  and  would  watch  and  pray. 

And  together  these  two  divided  souls  went  on  to  the 
meeting-place,  with  scarcely  another  word  spoken 
between  them. 

In  the  meantime,  Marcus  —  the  object  of  their 
thoughts — had  borne  Stephanus  in  his  arms  to  his 
chariot,  and,  bidding  the  charioteer  drive  quickly  with 
the  boy  to  his  palace  and  see  to  his  wounds,  he  went 
swiftly  in  the  direction  of  the  place  where  he  expected 
to  find  Viturius  and  his  troops  awaiting  him. 

Viturius  was  there,  with  horses  ready.  Leaping 
120 


THE   DEATH   OF   FAVIUS 

into  the  saddle,  Marcus  led  the  way  to  the  Cestian 
Bridge,  his  horsemen  clattering  behind  him.  Hi& 
heart  was  in  a  tumult  of  excitement  and  dread.  Would 
they  be  in  time  to  save  Mercia?  Tigellinus  would 
make  her  the  first  victim,  if  only  in  return  for  the 
slight  put  upon  him  in  the  afternoon,  when  Marcus 
had  protected  the  girl.  No  question  would  be  asked 
by  Caesar — Tigellinus  was  quite  safe.  Nero  would  not 
punish  him  for  slaughtering  these  wretches,  caught  in 
the  very  act  of  plotting  against  his  sacred  life.  Oh,  the 
horror  of  the  thought,  if  they  should  be  late !  They 
had  still  a  half-mile  or  more  to  go,  and  Tigellinus  had 
started  some  minutes  before. 

"  On,  men,  on !"  impatiently  called  Marcus,  and  his- 
horse  started  wildly  forward  at  the  prick  of  the  spur. 
Along  the  streets  they  galloped,  Marcus  feverishly 
counting  the  seconds,  the  strides  of  his  horse,  and  cal- 
culating the  distance  yet  to  traverse  before  he  reached 
the  grove. 

Suddenly,  from  a  turning  to  the  right  of  Marcus, 
appeared  a  cavalcade  of  chairs  and  chariots,  in  which 
were  seated  a  party  of  patrician  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
So  sudden  was  the  meeting,  that  Marcus  had  to  rein 
his  horse  back  on  to  his  haunches  to  prevent  him 
dashing  into  the  foremost  chariot.  The  occupant  gave 
a  little  scream,  and  Marcus  recognised  the  Empress 
Poppsea,  who,  with  her  party,  was  returning  from  a 
banquet  given  in  her  honour  by  one  of  the  Court. 

With  a  little  laugh  of  relief,  Poppsea  said — 

"  Impetuous  Marcus !  What  love-tryst  hast  thou  to 
keep,  that  we  are  to  be  ridden  down  in  thy  haste,  as 
121 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

though  we  were  some  Christian  scum  starting  another 
fire  of  Eome  ?" 

Marcus  inwardly  cursed  the  untoward  chance  that 
had  brought  about  this  encounter,  but  he  had  to  control 
his  anger  and  impatience,  and  said — 

"Forgive  me,  Empress;  I  am  indeed  in  haste,  but 
'tis  no  love-tryst  I  go  to  keep.  I  am  on  a  matter  of 
life  and  death,  and  must  needs  press  on  without  delay." 
And  he  made  as  if  to  ride  off.  But  Poppsea  was  not 
minded  yet  to  part  with  him.  She  had  been  devising 
schemes  to  meet  him,  and  appoint  a  time  for  an  inter- 
view, but  this  was  not  easy  :  here  was  an  obviously 
accidental  meeting,  which  could  call  for  no  explana- 
tion, and  she  wished  to  make  the  most  of  her  opportu- 
nity. On  the  other  hand,  Marcus'  thoughts  were  with 
Mercia  and  her  danger,  and  he  could  not  conceal  his 
eagerness  to  be  gone. 

"Whose  life  or  death  hangs  in  the  balance,  most 
noble  Marcus  ?"  asked  the  Empress. 

"  Thou  couldst  not  know  the  name,  even  if  I  told  it 
to  thee,  Empress ;  I  pray  thee,  give  me  leave  to  go." 
Without  even  waiting  for  permission,  he  dug  spurs  into 
his  horse,  and,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  signed  for  his 
troop  to  follow  him  ;  and  away  they  galloped  towards 
the  Cestian  Bridge. 

Poppsea  was  white  with  fury.  Marcus  had  dared  to 
slight  her  before  these  her  friends.  She  must  know  to 
whom  he  was  hastening,  and  if,  as  she  suspected,  it 
proved  to  be  a  woman, — woe  unto  her,  for  she  would 
be  revenged !  Thus,  all  unwittingly,  Mercia  had  made 
an  enemy  of  the  most  powerful  woman  in  Eome,  for 
122 


THE   DEATH   OF  FAVIUS 

Poppsea  never  rested  until  Marcus  was  tracked,  and 
she  had  discovered  that  it  was  to  save  the  life  of  this 
Christian  girl  that  he  had  left  her  after  she  had  ex- 
pressly desired  him  to  stay. 

The  meeting-place  was  in  a  hollow  or  dell  in  the 
heart  of  the  Grove.  It  was  most  secluded,  and  could 
not  be  seen  until  one  was  close  upon  it.  Trees  and  a 
dense  undergrowth  shielded  it  from  the  river,  while  a 
rise  in  the  ground  hid  it  from  the  land.  The  moon 
shone  softly  through  the  autumn  leaves  and  branches, 
but  shed  little  light.  In  the  dim  shadows  a  hundred 
and  fifty  or  more  men,  women,  and  children  had  gath- 
ered— reverent,  devout,  earnest,  and  God-fearing.  On 
a  slight  eminence  stood  the  reverend  Favius;  a  little 
lower  down  was  Titus;  by  the  side  of  Favius  knelt 
Mercia.  In  her  right  hand  she  held  a  horn  lantern,  in 
her  left  a  large  cross,  made  of  two  branches,  broken 
from  the  trees  before  the  meeting  began,  and  lashed 
together  with  a  leathern  thong.  It  had  been  hurriedly 
made  on  the  spot,  for  the  emblem  of  their  faith  could 
not  be  carried  with  them  except  at  the  risk  of  death. 

Melos  and  other  trusty  men  of  the  brotherhood  had 
been  told  off  to  do  duty  as  scouts,  to  watch  and  give 
warning  at  the  approach  of  any  strangers  or  enemies. 

It  was  a  strange  and  beautiful  scene.  The  band  of 
faithful  followers  of  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth  were 
kneeling,  facing  the  aged  Favius,  in  several  circles; 
nearest  were  the  children,  then  the  women,  and,  on  the 
outer  rings,  the  men.  The  moonlight  fell  in  patches 
through  the  trees,  lighting  up  a  face  or  a  form  here  and 
there,  making  the  shadows  still  darker  by  the  contrast. 
123 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

All  were  quietly  and  soberly  attired,  and  the  white 
robes  and  drapery  in  which  Mercia  was  wrapped  made 
her  figure  stand  out  against  the  background  of  green 
foliage  like  the  glistening  form  of  some  angel  of  light. 
Softly  and  reverently  all  were  singing  a  hymn — 

"  Shepherd  of  souls  that  stumble  by  the  way, 
Pilot  of  vessels  storm- toss 'd  in  the  night; 
Healer  of  wounds,  for  help  to  Thee  we  pray, 
Guide  Thou  our  footsteps,  send  the  morning  light. 
Healer  of  wounds,  for  help  to  Thee  we  pray, 
Guide  Thou  our  footsteps,  lead,  oh,  lead  us  home. 

All  we  like  sheep  have  strayed — where  is  the  fold 
That  shelters  all  who  seek  its  loving  breast? 
There,  where  the  Cross  doth  shine  like  molten  gold, 
Emblem  of  pain,  giving  eternal  rest. 
There,  where  the  Cross  doth  shine  like  molten  gold, 
Giving  eternal  rest.     Oh,  lead  us  home." 

At  the  end  of  the  hymn,  Mercia  arose,  raising  the 
lantern  in  her  left  hand,  to  enable  Favius  to  read  the 
Epistle  which  he  had  unrolled,  while  with  her  right  she 
still  grasped  the  cross. 

Silently,  and  with  eagerness,  the  little  band  of  wor- 
shippers listened  to  the  blessed  message  which  Favius 
delivered : — 

"  And  now,  brethren,  be  faithful.  Love  them  that 
hate  you;  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  you. 
Love  one  another.  Be  patient  in  sorrow ;  rejoice  with 
them  that  do  rejoice ;  weep  with  those  that  are  in  grief. 
If  thy  enemy  be  hungry,  feed  him ;  if  he  thirst,  give 
him  drink.  Do  unto  others  as  ye  would  they  should 
124 


THE   DEATH   OF   FAVIUS 

do  unto  you.  Love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself;  for  to 
teach  this  came  the  Kecleemer  into  the  world.  And 
may  the  peace  He  sendeth  be  with  you  now  and  for 
«ver." 

"  Amen  !"  all  chanted  softly. 

Then  spoke  Titus,  the  messenger  of  Paulus. 

"  Brethren,  too  long  have  the  nations  wandered  in 
darkness.  The  dawn  is  at  hand !  But  the  splendour 
of  the  morning  gold  shall  be  streaked  with  blood — the 
blood  of  the  saints.  Yet,  though  the  wicked  pursue 
thee,  even  unto  death,  why,  death  is  but  the  gate  to  life 
eternal.  Be  patient  and  endure." 

All  too  prophetic  were  his  words.  The  splendour  of 
the  morning  gold  was  all  too  soon  to  be  streaked  with 
the  blood  of  the  saints.  The  enemy  was  nearing  them ; 
the  persecutors  were  within  bow-shot  of  them.  The 
faithful  Melos  came  running  down  the  bank  of  the  dell, 
shouting  breathlessly — 

"  Father !  Favius  !  Mercia !  Brethren  !  We  are 
betrayed !" 

And  some  faint-hearted  among  the  women  screamed — 

"  Betrayed !" 

"  Tigellinus  and  his  soldiers  are  upon  us.  Fly!  fly! 
and  save  yourselves !" 

Hurriedly  the  people  were  about  to  fly,  some  in 
terror,  some  with  the  natural  instinct  of  self-preserva- 
tion. The  children  were  clinging  to  their  mothers' 
garments,  frightened  and  helpless;  the  men  were  en- 
deavouring to  calm  them  and  assist  the  women  to 
escape;  but  Mercia  saw  that  flight  was  impossible, 
and,  raising  the  cross  on  high,  she  cried — 

125 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Stay,  brethren  !  By  the  Cross,  I  implore  you  I 
Meet  your  enemies  like  Christians.  Be  not  afraid  1" 

Straightway  all  were  calm  and  reverent  once  more. 
Sinking  down  on  their  knees,  they  recommenced  their 
hymn — 

"  Shepherd  of  souls  that  stumble  by  the  way, 
Pilot  of  vessels  storm-toss'd  in  the  night ; 
Healer  of  wounds,  for  help  to  Thee  we  pray, 
Guide  Thou  our  footsteps,  send  the  morning  light. 
Healer  of  wounds,  for  help  to  Thee  we  pray, 
Guide  Thou  our  footsteps,  lead,  oh,  lead  us  home." 

Down  upon  these  devoted  ones  dashed  Tigellinus, 
Licinius,  and  their  brutal  soldiery.  Loudly  and 
fiercely  the  leaders  urged  the  men  to  slaughter.  "  Kill 
— kill — kill  1"  roared  the  bloodthirsty  Licinius.  "  Spare 
none  of  the  dogs!"  shouted  his  remorseless  companion. 
Not  a  cry  came  from  the  Christians.  Strong  in  their 
faith,  they  sang  to  their  Shepherd,  until  the  cruel 
swords  smote  them  down.  When  a  woman  was  aimed 
at,  a  man  would  step  forward  and  calmly  receive  the 
thrust ;  mothers  threw  themselves  upon  the  swords  to 
save  their  little  ones — all  in  vain,  they  were  ruthlessly 
murdered  with  the  rest.  The  aged  and  the  young  alike 
were  without  fear.  There  was  no  panic  now  ;  all  were 
prepared  to  die  for  their  Blessed  Master,  and  die  with- 
out a  murmur.  Husbands  and  wives  embraced  each 
other  in  death  ;  children,  who  had  been  spared  for  the 
moment,  prayed  silently  over  the  bodies  of  their 
parents.  Not  one  resisted.  It  was  indeed  safe  sport, 
as  the  spy,  Servilius,  said.  He  was  there,  and  hig 
126 


THE   DEATH   OF  FAVIUS 

knife  sought,  and  found,  the  hearts  of  the  women  and 
children,  and  amongst  them  the  child  of  the  man  he 
had  seen  struck  to  the  earth  by  the  guards  that  after- 
noon, in  the  street  by  Dacia's  house.  It  was  her  only 
child,  and  the  bereaved  woman  lifted  her  hands  to 
God  in  passionate  entreaty  to  Him  to  receive  its  soul. 

The  sedile  seized  upon  Titus,  and  remorselessly  ran 
his  sword  through  his  heart,  and  he  fell  and  died  with- 
out a  groan.  Tigellinus  rushed  at  Favius,  but  Mercia 
threw  herself  in  his  way,  and  entreated  him — 

"  No,  no !     Kill  me,  but  spare  this  aged  man  1" 

u  No ;  kill  the  jade  with  the  rest !"  shouted  Licinius, 
an  he  dragged  Mercia  away  from  Favius.  Tigellinus 
stabbed  Favius  through  the  lungs,  and  he  fell  on  the 
slope,  with  his  face  upturned,  and  his  fast-failing  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  sky.  Licinius'  foot  had  slipped  as  he 
caught  Mercia,  and,  to  save  himself,  he  let  her  go ;  but 
her  white  figure  caught  the  eyes  of  Tigellinus,  and  he 
rushed  to  her.  At  the  same  moment  the  asdile  ran  at 
her ;  but  in  an  instant  their  swords  were  beaten  from 
their  hands  by  Marcus,  who,  snatching  Mercia  by  the 
waist,  whirled  her  out  of  danger,  as  he  struck  the 
weapons  from  the  hands  of  her  would-be  murderers. 

"  In  the  name  of  Csesar,  hold !"  commanded  Marcus. 
His  men  rushed  between  the  soldiers  of  Tigellinus  and 
their  victims,  and,  where  they  resisted,  fiercely  fought 
them  into  obedience.  The  mad  lust  for  blood  was  in 
the  souls  of  the  two  officers,  and  they  were  furious  at 
the  interference  of  the  Prefect.  Tigellinus  shouted  to 
his  men  to  slay  them  all,  but  Marcus'  voice  rang  out 
like  a  trumpet — 

127 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Drop  your  swords,  in  Caesar's  name !  Whoever 
strikes  another  blow  at  these  people  I  swear  shall 
suffer  death." 

The  soldiers  knew  and  feared  the  Prefect;  they 
sheathed  their  swords,  and  the  slaughter  was  stayed. 

"Are  these  miscreants  to  escape,  Prefect?"  asked 
Tigellinus. 

"  No,"  said  Marcus.  "  That  is  my  duty ;  leave  it  to 
me.  Look  to  the  wounded;  take  the  rest  prisoners. 
Go,  all  of  you,"  he  said  to  Tigellinus,  Licinius,  and 
their  men ;  "  I  will  be  answerable  to  Caesar  for  these. 
Have  no  fear;  justice  shall  be  done." 

"See  to  it,"  said  Tigellinus,  "that  justice  is  indeed 
done.  These  wretches  were  plotting  the  death  of  our 
beloved  Nero,  and  he  will  brook  no  neglect  of  precau- 
tions to  save  his  sacred  life.  Look  to  it,  Prefect." 

"  I  will  be  answerable  unto  CaBsar,  as  I  have  said," 
replied  Marcus. 

It  was  useless  for  Tigellinus  to  dispute  the  authority 
of  Marcus ;  moreover,  he  was  outnumbered,  and  so  he 
called  upon  his  soldiers  to  fall  in  and  march.  He  left 
Marcus  with  his  men  to  look  to  the  living  and  dying. 
Amongst  the  latter  was  the  aged  Favius.  Mercia  had 
flown  to  him,  and  had  lifted  his  reverend  head  on  to 
her  knees,  and  was  wiping  the  death-dews  from  his 
face  and  forehead.  With  a  heavenly  smile  he  thanked 
her.  He  could  not  speak  ;  his  blood  was  welling  into 
his  lungs  and  choking  him,  but  his  eyes  were  speaking 
for  his  tongue,  and  they  were  full  of  a  divine  love  and 
pity  for  the  child  he  had  cherished  so  long.  With  the 
utmost  yearning  he  gazed  upon  her,  as  if  to  read  her 
128 


THE   DEATH   OF  FAVIUS 

future  ere  he  passed  into  the  everlasting  life.  Long 
he  looked  upon  her  as  his  strength  waned.  Marcus 
moved  towards  him  as  if  to  help  him,  and,  in  so  doing, 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  dying  martyr.  For  a 
moment  his  face  clouded,  and  his  eyes  darkened  with 
a  look  of  dread.  Then  he  seemed  to  gaze  beyond, 
steadily  and  earnestly,  and  when  his  look  again  fell 
upon  these  two,  it  was  with  a  content  and  happiness 
beyond  all  words  to  express.  What  had  he  seen  to 
bring  his  soul  such  peace  ?  Had  the  future  opened  to 
his  clearing  vision  ?  Did  he  know  what  it  held  in  store 
for  this  man  and  this  woman?  If  he  did,  the  know- 
ledge gave  him  a  great  joy,  for  he  looked  upon  them 
both  with  a  perfect  peace  and  happiness,  and,  seeking 
the  hand  of  Marcus,  who  was  now  kneeling  by  him, 
he  gently  pressed  it.  His  other  hand  was  holding 
Mercia's,  and  that,  too,  felt  the  last  effort  of  his  dying 
strength.  Thus,  with  his  eyes  fixed  to  the  last  on 
Mercia,  his  face  growing  more  and  more  peaceful, 
and  still  more  noble  and  beautiful,  the  aged  saint 
passed  through  the  portals  of  death  to  life  eternal,  to 
receive  his  reward,  and  to  hear  his  Master's  voice  utter 
the  joyful  greeting :  "  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faith- 
ful servant  I  Enter  into  thy  rest." 


I29 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

THE  last  moments  of  Favius  affected  Marcus 
strangely.  There  was  a  grandeur  of  beauty  in  his 
death  that  he  did  not  understand.  The  ineffable  peace, 
the  radiant  joy,  which  suffused  his  face  were  so  strange 
that  Marcus  wondered.  He  had  been  deeply  impressed 
by  the  dignity  of  the  man  in  life,  but  in  death  he  was 
grand,  even  glorious.  And  it  was  thus  that  these 
Christians  could  die!  He  had  looked  upon  death 
often  enough,  had  seen  the  dread  messenger  arrive  in 
many  guises,  but  never  until  now  had  he  appeared  as 
a  herald  of  peace  and  joy. 

Mercia  was  kneeling  beside  her  dead  friend,  silently 
praying.  Marcus  gave  orders  for  the  decent  and 
orderly  burial  of  the  dead,  and  attention  to  the 
wounded,  who  were  led  or  carried  away  with  the  rest 
of  the  prisoners.  They  gave  no  trouble,  these  strange 
people :  there  were  no  shrieks,  cries,  nor  lamentations 
,  — only  passive  obedience  and  patient  sorrow. 

When  all  was  arranged,  Marcus  gently  bade  Mercia 
to  go  with  him ;  she  was  his  prisoner.  Looking,  for 
the  last  time  on  earth,  upon  the  face  of  that  dear,  true 
friend  and  guide,  Mercia  turned,  with  heavy  heart, 
back  to  the  city  with  her  captor.  In  so  short  a  time 
all  who  had  made  her  childhood  and  girlhood  bright 
and  happy  had  been  taken  from  her,  but  she  had  been 
130 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

taught  not  to  murmur,  only  to  suffer  in  patience ;  and 
her  prayer  was,  "  Thy  will  be  done  !" 

Marcus  watched  her  with  an  absorbing  interest. 
His  innate  manliness  prevented  him  from  intruding 
upon  her  sorrow,  but  there  was  something  else  that 
made  him  hold  aloof  from  her.  What  was  it?  The 
same  gracious  calm  that  had  marked  the  passing  of 
Favius  was  in  her  eyes ;  the  same  peaceful  resignation,, 
and,  withal,  a  wondrous  depth  of  feeling  that  pro- 
foundly stirred  his  better  nature.  He  felt  the  might 
of  this  strange  faith,  although  he  knew  it  not.  It 
surrounded  Mercia  with  an  atmosphere  through  which 
he  felt  he  could  not  penetrate.  Marcus  was  sorely 
troubled.  In  the  presence  of  this  simple  girl  he  felt  a 
self-abasement  that  hurt  him  with  an  almost  physical 
pain.  Why  should  he  feel  thus  ?  He  had  not  harmed 
her.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  twice  saved  her  life, 
He  had  sought  at  the  risk  of  his  own  dignity  and 
place  to  warn  her  and  her  friends  to  leave  the  city  and 
save  themselves.  He  could  not  charge  his  mind  with 
one  action  that  was  not  for  her  welfare ;  but  his- 
thoughts — what  of  them  ?  As  he  looked  at  Mercia, 
the  hot  blood  surged  to  his  face,  and  he  knew  in  his- 
heart  that  he  desired  her  above  all  other  women.  But 
at  such  a  time  was  it  not  brutal  to  yield  to  such  a  feel- 
ing? The  girl  was  so  pure,  so  innocent;  and  her  deep 
grief,  too,  alone  demanded  his  respect.  But  since  his 
hand  had  touched  hers  for  that  brief  moment  when  he 
had  dragged  her  out  of  the  reach  of  Tigellinus,  his 
passion  had  grown  to  an  extent  that  made  him  won- 
der. It  could  not  be  that  he  loved  this  Christian, 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

beautiful  as  she  was.  The  thought  was  absurd !  And 
yet,  what  could  it  be  that  he  felt,  if  it  was  not  love  ? 
So  ran  his  thoughts  as  he  led  Mercia  back  to  the  city. 
He  could  say  nothing  to  her  but  the  merest  common- 
places. He  felt  that  in  her  grief  she  had  some  strange 
help  and  consolation  beside  which  his  attempts  at 
comfort  were  contemptibly  inadequate  aud  useless. 
So  they  returned  in  silence. 

Mercia's  grief  was  not  to  be  measured  by  her  words 
or  manner.  Next  to  her  parents  she  had  loved  the 
aged  Favius,  and  her  heart  was  torn  with  the  sorrow 
of  parting  from  him ;  but,  even  in  this  awful  time,  her 
thoughts  wandered  to  the  man  at  her  side,  and  she 
silently  thanked  him  for  his  manly  consideration  for 
her  grief  and  the  gentleness  of  his  manner  to  the 
dying  Favius  and  the  wounded  brethren.  Could  this 
be  the  profligate  Marcus,  of  whose  evil  deeds  she  had 
heard,  and  against  whose  wickedness  she  had  been 
warned  ?  Surely,  he  could  not  be  the  vile  thing  that 
she  had  thought  him !  There  was  a  nobility  about 
him  that  she  could  not  fail  to  understand,  all  unused 
as  she  was  to  the  world  and  to  passing  judgment  on 
mankind. 

Marcus  was  pondering  on  what  was  to  be  done  with 
her.  Could  he  leave  that  tender,  white  creature  in 
some  wretched  cell  in  the  public  prison?  Ah,  no  I 
his  every  instinct  of  manliness  revolted  against  the 
thought.  And  yet — his  duty  ?  His  duty  was  to  keep 
her  and  her  friends  close  prisoners  until  the  will  of 
Nero  should  be  learned.  He  had  full  power  to  exter- 
minate the  vermin, — and  at  the  word  he  had  heard 
132 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

used  so  often  to  describe  these  strange  people,  these 
Christians,  he  almost  smiled,  it  seemed  so  ludicrously 
inappropriate, — but  he  need  not  use  that  power.  Still, 
he  must  not  release  her.  He  had  passed  his  word  to 
Tigellinus  that  he  would  be  answerable  to  Caesar  for 
their  safe  keeping,  and  he  must  not  break  that  word. 
His  honour  was  pledged.  He  would  not,  however, 
place  her  in  the  cells  of  the  common  prison.  No ;  he 
would  lodge  her  in  his  own  palace  until  he  could  see 
Nero  and  induce  him  to  grant  her  pardon. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Mercia  was  bestowed  in 
a  portion  of  the  house  of  Marcus ;  but  across  the  court- 
yard only  were  the  cells  in  which  her  friends  were 
confined,  and,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  she  could 
hear  them  chanting  their  hymns,  and  in  her  heart  she 
joined  in  their  praises  and  their  prayers. 

The  boy,  Stephanus,  had,  by  the  special  orders  of 
Marcus,  received  every  attention,  and  was  fast  recover- 
ing from  the  effects  of  the  torture  he  had  undergone; 
but  he  still  suffered  intense  pain — he  was  feverish,  and 
his  nerves  were  terribly  shaken.  But  the  elasticity  of 
youth  was  his,  and  would  assist  in  his  recovery. 

After  seeing  that  Mercia  was  cared  and  provided  for, 
and  delivering  the  rest  of  the  prisoners  up  to  the 
guards,  Marcus  retired  to  pace  his  rooms,  through  the 
greater  part  of  the  night,  wondering  and  pondering 
over  the  events  of  the.  day  and  his  own  surprising 
change  of  feelings. 

Berenice,  too,  passed  a  restless  night.  Her  mind  was 
full  of  the  gossip  she  had  heard  of  this  Christian  girl, 
Mercia.  Marcus,  she  knew  only  too  well,  was  not  over- 

133 


THE   SIGN    OF  THE   CROSS 

scrupulous  where  women  were  concerned,  and  she  was 
too  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  manners  and  morality 
of  the  age  in  which  she  lived  to  trouble  herself  over  his 
intrigues ;  so  long  as  his  heart  was  not  touched,  she 
did  not  care  overmuch.  "Men  were  men,"  and  to  look 
for  chastity  in  them  was  ridiculous.  Indeed,  where  it 
existed  it  did  not  excite  respect — at  least  in  Home.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  looked  upon  as  a  sign  of  effeminacy 
and  weakness.  Therefore,  the  many  escapades  so  freely 
attributed  to  Marcus  scarcely  affected  her ;  but  some- 
thing in  his  manner  had  aroused  the  suspicion  in  her 
mind  that  his  feeling  for  this  Christian  girl  was  not 
.altogether  that  which  he  had  entertained  for  the  other 
women  with  whom  he  had  associated.  This  troubled 
and  vexed  Berenice,  and  she  arose  from  her  couch  in 
the  morning  in  a  temper  the  reverse  of  amiable. 

At  times  Berenice  could  be  shrewish,  and  on  this 
particular  occasion  she  was  unusually  so,  as  her  ser- 
vants and  slaves  learned  to  their  cost.  She  had  her 
spies  and  agents,  who  kept  her  fully  aware  of  all  that 
Marcus  did  and  said,  and,  in  order  to  appear  diligent, 
they  often  regaled  her  with  reports  of  many  things 
which  he  had  not  done,  and  repeated  many  things  he 
had  never  even  dreamed  of  saying :  they  had  to  earn 
their  wages  as  best  they  could. 

However,  she  knew  he  had  gone  to  the  Cestian 
Grove  with  the  object  of  saving  the  girl's  life,  and  had 
succeeded  in  so  doing.  She  had  heard,  too,  of  the  insult 
to  which  he  had  subjected  Poppsea ;  that  was  another 
proof  of  the  strength  of  his  regard  for  the  Christian 
girl.  She  was  burning  to  see  him  and  judge  for  herself, 

134 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

by  his  words  and  manner,  how  far  he  was  involved 
with  Mercia ;  but  she  knew  that  he  was  at  the  Palace 
of  Justice,  and  could  not  leave,  even  if  she  sent  for  him. 
Still,  she  sent,  and  was  now  anxiously  awaiting  the  re- 
turn of  her  messenger. 

The  apartment  which  served  as  a  boudoir  and  re- 
ception-room for  her  special  friends  was  exquisitely, 
richly,  and  most  tastefully  furnished.  Eefinement  and 
luxury  were  evident  on  all  sides.  The  couches,  hang- 
ings, cushions,  and  other  appointments  were  all  of  the 
most  costly  materials,  and  rich  in  harmony  of  colour 
and  design. 

Berenice  herself  was  a  beautiful  picture  as  sho  lay 
upon  one  of  the  couches,  studying  her  face  in  a  small 
steel  mirror.  Her  maid,  Zona,  had  been  accentuating 
the  delicate  curve  of  her  eyebrows.  There  was  but 
little  need  for  the  aid  of  art  to  improve  the  beauty  of 
her  face,  but  there  are  few  women  who  can  deny  them- 
selves the  delight  of  trying  to  elaborate  their  charms, 
be  they  ever  so  abundant,  and  Berenice  was  not  one  of 
the  few.  Evidently,  Zona's  handiwork  did  not  give 
Berenice  entire  satisfaction,  for,  with  a  sharpness  of 
tone  which  her  slaves  had  learned  to  know  boded  no 
peace  to  them,  she  said — 

"  Give  me  the  pencil,  Zona.  You  are  careless  this 
morning." 

The  girl  was  on  her  knees  by  the  couch,  and,  looking 
up  at  her  mistress,  said — 

"Nay,  lady,  I "  But  her  speech  was  cut  short 

by  a  blow  on  her  face  administered  with  no  lack  of 
energy  by  the  delicate  white  hand  of  her  mistress. 

135 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

The  slave  sank  back  on  the  floor  and  ruefully  rubbed 
the  stinging  cheek,  as  her  mistress  said — 

"  Don't  dare  to  answer  me !  This  eyebrow  is  all 
askew.  What  ails  the  girl?  Art  sick — in  love — or  both?" 

Zona  was  still  engaged  with  her  smarting  face,  and 
did  not  reply.  Her  silence  provoked  her  mistress  to 
ask  angrily — 

"  Why  do  you  not  speak,  fool  ?" 

"  Lady,  you  bade  me  not  to  answer,"  said  Zona. 

This  was  too  obviously  the  truth  for  Berenice  to  gain- 
say, and  so  she  changed  the  subject,  and  said — 

"  Well,  answer  me  now.  How  do  I  look  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"Eadiantly  beautiful,  lady!"  replied  Zona  artfully, 
knowing  how  best  to  soothe  her  mistress's  feelings. 
"  The  noble  Marcus  must  love  you,  or  he  is  but  a  man 
of  stone — not  one  of  flesh  and  blood." 

"  Why  speak  of  Marcus  ?"  said  Berenice,  longing  at 
the  same  time  that  the  slave  should  continue  to  speak 
of  him.  "  There  are  scores  of  others  who  ^7ould  give 
their  lives  for  me." 

"  That  they  would,  indeed,  lady,"  answered  the  cun- 
ning girl.  "  There's  Metullus " 

"  Metullus !"  pettishly  answered  her  mistress,  deftly 
adjusting  a  straying  ringlet.  u  I  despise  him — he's  a 
fool !" 

"  He  is  rich ;  and  a  rich  husband  who  is  a  fool  to 
boot  is  not  a  thing  to  be  despised,"  said  the  girl  senten- 
tiously.  "  Then,  there's  Tigellinus." 

"  He's  a  brute !"  was  the  curt  summing-up  of  that 
person's  character. 

136 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

"  Brutes  can  be  tamed,  lady,"  meekly  suggested  the 
slave. 

"  Ah  !  they  all  weary  me  to  death  !  Marcus  is  worth 
a  score  of  such."  And  her  voice  softened  as  she  men- 
tioned the  name  of  Marcus.  Zona  was  not  less  swift 
to  catch  the  passing  changes  of  her  mistress's  many 
moods  than  is  a  weathercock  to  obey  the  changes  of 
the  wind,  and,  in  a  gush  of  not  altogether  feigned  ad- 
miration, she  exclaimed — 

"  Indeed  he  is,  lady !  A  score  ?  Nay,  a  thousand 
such  !  He  is  indeed  a  god  among  them  all.  Would  he 
were  here  now  to  see  how  beautiful  you  look." 

Here  was  no  flattery  at  least.  Berenice  did  look 
beautiful  indeed ;  she  had  no  cause  to  be  fretful  over 
her  appearance.  Her  dress  was  of  a  creamy  white 
silk ;  her  handsome  bust  was  outlined  by  a  massive 
band  of  many-coloured  gems  which  sparkled  in  the 
light  as  her  bosom  rose  and  fell ;  a  belt  of  the  same 
rich  character  drew  the  robe  together  at  the  waist, 
while  the  hem  of  the  garment  was  wrought  so  closely 
with  jewels  that  the  material  was  entirely  hidden.  A 
drapery  of  the  most  delicate  shade  of  heliotrope 
bordered  with  gold,  and  caught  at  the  side  with  an  im- 
mense jewelled  clasp,  seemed  to  display  rather  than 
hide  the  beauties  of  her  magnificent  figure.  On  her 
arms  were  bracelets  of  exquisite  workmanship ;  in  her 
hair  were  entwined  gems  of  the  rarest  kind,  and,  as 
she  spoke,  she  tried  the  effect  of  a  red  rose  over  an 
ear.  A  gong  of  silver  metal  was  heard  ringing  outside, 
and  Berenice,  with  a  slight  start  of  expectation,  cried, 
"  Enter  I" 

137 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

Another  slave-girl — one  Catia — came  into  the  room, 
and,  with  a  low  curtsey,  awaited  permission  to  speak. 

u  Well  ?"  asked  her  mistress  eagerly. 

"  The  noble  Marcus  was  at  the  Palace  of  Justice,  but 
he  sent  word  he  would  attend  you  the  moment  the 
causes  were  tried." 

Berenice  sank  back  on  the  couch  in  disappointment. 

"  Enough.  Go  !"  she  said,  dismissing  Catia.  "  When 
the  causes  are  tried  ?  That  may  not  be  for  hours ! 
He  avoids  me  purposely.  He  must  love  me — he 
shall !"  And  she  contemplated  the  reflection  of  her- 
self in  the  steel  mirror.  The  contemplation  evidently 
gave  her  pleasure,  for  she  smiled  as  she  softly  repeated 
to  herself,  "  Yes,  he  shall  love  me !" 

And  indeed  she  had  fair  cause  to  think  such  a  con- 
summation possible,  inevitable  even.  Her  eyes  glit- 
tered with  pleasure  as  she  beheld  herself.  Yes,  she 
was  lovely ;  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that — and 
Marcus  should  soon  be  at  her  feet.  He  was  so  used  to 
admiration  and  love  that  he  was  careless  and  thought- 
less ;  that  was  all.  It  was  not  possible  that  this  Chris- 
tian girl  was  her  equal  in  beauty  any  more  than  in 
rank ;  and,  as  she  gazed  upon  herself,  a  feeling  of  con- 
tempt  for  the  lowly-born  rival  steadily  took  possession 
of  her.  This  was  unwise  in  her — no  woman  can  afford 
to  despise  a  rival,  however  humble.  Men  are  strange 
creatures,  subject  to  strange  whims  and  emotions  that 
women  wot  but  little  of. 

So  long  did  she  study  herself  in  the  mirror  that  her 
maid,  less  absorbed  in  the  subject  of  her  mistress's 
beauty,  had  stretched  herself  out  upon  the  tiger's  skin 
138 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

beside  the  couch,  and,  nestling  her  pretty  face  upon  the 
beast's  head,  fell  into  a  doze.  A  sharp  ring  upon  the 
silver  gong  startled  the  slave  from  her  sleep  and  Bere- 
nice from  her  reflections,  and  hurriedly  and  authorita- 
tively she  exclaimed — 

"  That  may  be  Marcus !  Put  those  things  away — 
quick !" 

Zona  deftly  hid  the  aids  to  beauty,  and  Berenice 
continued — 

"  Now  take  thy  lute  and  sing." 

Zona  sat  by  the  end  of  the  couch  upon  the  floor, 
took  her  lute,  and  struck  some  chords  upon  it,  while 
Berenice  fell  back  in  a  tempting  attitude  upon  the 
couch,  saying — 

"Enter!     Enter!" 

Catia  obeyed  the  summons  and  entered  the  room, 
announcing  as  she  did  so — 

"  The  lady  Dacia." 

With  a  gesture  of  angry  impatience,  Berenice  sprang 
from  the  couch,  saying — 

"  Dacia !  There,  get  up,  girl.  I  thought  it  was 
Marcus.  You  need  not  sing  for  Dacia."  And  the 
pretty  picture  designed  for  the  lordly  Marcus  was 
broken  up,  and  gladdened  not  the  eyes  of  the  less 
important  Dacia. 

That  young  and  feather-brained  lady  entered  with 
a  smile,  and  a  whirl  that  stirred  to  motion  the  leaves 
of  the  plants  adorning  the  room.  She  was.  as  ever, 
bewitchingly  dressed.  Her  robe  was  of  pale  rose-pink 
silk  ;  her  draperies,  broidered  with  heavy  gold  fringe, 
were  crossed  over  her  bosom  with  bands  of  rubies  and 

139. 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

other  precious  stones.  A  string  of  rubies  was  en- 
twined in  her  golden  hair,  and  a  pale  blush  rose  was 
fastened  on  either  side  of  her  head.  She  seemed  the 
very  incarnation  of  thoughtless,  irresponsible  gaiety  as 
she  fluttered  round  the  couch  to  salute  her  friend. 

"  Ah,  my  Berenice !" 

"Well,  my  Dacia,"  replied  Berenice  languidly, 
"  what  brings  thee  hither  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  the  butterfly,  dropping  her  fan,  "  a  fit  of 
depression."  This  was  accompanied  by  a  smile  of 
intense  self-content  that  ill-accorded  with  her  words. 

Berenice,  who  knew  her  friend's  many  weaknesses, 
asked,  with  but  scant  interest — 

"  Have  you  been  gambling  and  losing  again  ?" 

"  Worse,  Berenice,  worse !"  said  Dacia,  restlessly 
circling  the  couch  on  which  Berenice  reclined ;  "  I 
would  not  mind  the  losing,  but  that  stupid  Philodemus 
tells  me  he  cannot  afford  to  pay  my  losses." 

"Ask  thy  husband  to  do  so,"  suggested  Berenice 
quietly. 

"  I  did ;  but  he  laughed,  and  told  me  that  if  Philo- 
demus could  not  afford  to  pay  my  debts,  I  must  find 
another  lover  who  could.  That's  the  disadvantage  of 
being  frank  enough  to  let  your  husband  know  you 
have  a  lover.  As  for  him, — my  husband, — he  was 
sore  pressed  himself.  You  know  what  that  means, 
my  Berenice.  That  hook-nosed  wife  of  Yinius  is  sim- 
ply ruining  him!  That  woman  is  a  perfect  vulture! 
What  the  men  see  in  her  I  can  never  understand. 
Vinius  is  the  fourth  husband,  she's  had  in  two  years." 

"  The  third,"  lazily  corrected  Berenice. 
.140 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

"  Third  ?     I  thought  it  was  four  she  had  had." 

"No;  only  three,"  said  Berenice,  with  a  slight 
yawn. 

"  Well,  we  cannot  be  particular  to  one  or  two  when 
a  woman  changes  her  husband  as  often  as  she  does," 
said  Dacia,  dropping  a  plate  of  grapes  upon  the  floor. 
This  habit  of  dropping  things  was  decidedly  growing 
upon  the  fair  Dacia,  and  the  habit  boded  no  good  to 
the  accommodating,  but  partly  ruined,  Philodemus. 
It  behoved  that  complacent  person  to  look  to  his 
revenues,  or  submit  to  pass  into  the  lumber-room  of 
Dacia's  dropped,  broken,  and  forgotten  trifles. 

Berenice,  still  divided  in  opinion  about  a  red  rose — 
or  no  red  rose — for  her  hair,  said,  as  she  once  more 
tried  the  effect  in  the  mirror, — 

"  There  are  others  quite  as  bad  as  she." 

"  Worse,  my  Berenice,"  and  the  inept  Dacia  dropped 
a  delicate  and  costly  vase,  from  which  Berenice  had 
just  lifted  her  rose,  upon  the  mosaic  floor,  where  it 
was  shivered  into  a  thousand  atoms.  Not  in  the  least 
perturbed  in  spirit,  Dacia  remarked,  gazing  at  the 
fragments, — 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,  Berenice ;  I  am  afraid  I  have 
broken  it." 

Indeed  she  had,  but  on  she  rattled,  as  Berenice 
sighed  over  her  lost  treasure,  "  Now,  there's  Adrostia. 
How  that  woman  dares  to  show  her  face  is  beyond 
me !  She  induced  her  husband,  Helladius,  to  divorce 
her,  that  she  might  marry  his  friend,  Adoncus,  and, 
when  she  had  ruined  him,  divorced  him  to  "marry 
Symnus, — ruined  and  divorced  him, — re-married  her 
141 


THE   SIGN    OF  THE   CROSS 

first  husband,  Helladius,  and  invited  all  the  divorced 
ones  to  the  wedding-supper !  What  do  you  think  of 
that  ?" 

Here  she  began  to  handle  a  beautiful  gold-mounted 
cup  of  coloured  glass,  studded  with  gems,  in  her  usual 
reckless  fashion  :  this  Berenice,  quietly  but  firmly,  res- 
cued from  destruction,  by  taking  it  out  of  Dacia's 
hands  and  removing  it  to  a  place  of  safety.  Not  in 
the  least  abashed,  Dacia  repeated  her  question,  "  What 
do  you  think  of  that,  Berenice  ?" 

"  That  she  is  a  very  liberal-minded  woman,"  was 
the  answer.  "  What  has  become  of  your  friend  Ara- 
bascus  ?"  asked  Berenice,  with  slight  sarcasm,  for  this 
Ambascus  was  another  of  Dacia's  numerous  admirers. 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  to  me  of  Ambascus !"  laughed 
Dacia. 

"  Why  not  speak  of  him  ?  I  thought  he  really 
loved  you." 

"  So  he  does,  the  mean-spirited-creature !  But  he 
esteems  it  a  disgrace  to  have  a  love  affair  with  a  mar- 
ried woman.  Pah !  Such  men  are  only  fit  for  slave- 
girls.  That  reminds  me — Marcus " 

"  Marcus  ?  What  of  Marcus  ?"  Berenice  was  at  last 
roused  into  an  attitude  of  interest. 

"  Have  you  not  heard  ?"  innocently  asked  Dacia. 

"  Heard  what  ?" 

"  About  this  Christian  girl  that  he  is  so  infatuated 
with  ?  All  Eome  is  talking  of  it." 

Berenice  felt  her  cheeks  crimson,  but  she  asked,  as 
carelessly  as  she  could,  "  About  what  ?" 

"Strange  that  you  should  not  have  heard,"  chattered 
142 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

Dacia.  "  But  there,  thank  the  gods !  lovers  and  hus- 
bands are  the  last  to  hear  of  the  pranks  their  dear  ones 
are  practising." 

"  But  what  of  this  Christian  girl  and  Marcus  ?" 

"  Tigellinus  will  tell  you." 

"  I  have  not  seen  Tigellinus  for  two  days.  What  is 
it?" 

"  Tigellinus  swept  down  upon  a  nest  of  these  vipers 
— these  Christians — and  would  have  exterminated 
them,  but,  so  please  you,  the  noble  Marcus  steps  in, 
protects  one  of  the  wretched  females,  and  has  her  taken 
to  his  palace." 

"  What  ?"  exclaimed  Berenice,  in  amazement. 

"  And  Tigellinus  swears  that  Nero  shall  know  of  it. 
But  then  all  Home  knows  the  state  Nero  is  in !  More- 
over, there's  the  Empress,  Poppsea,  she  rules  the 
Emperor ;  and,  as  she's  half  in  love  with  Marcus  her- 
self  " 

"  But  this  Christian  girl — what  is  her  name  ?"  inter- 
rupted Berenice  anxiously. 

"  Mercia,  I  think  the  creature's  called." 

"The  same!"  said  Berenice,  with  much  trepida- 
tion. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I've  heard  of  her  before.  What  is  she  like  ?"  Strive 
as  she  might,  Berenice  could  not  quite  steady  her  voice 
as  she  put  this  question,  but  Dacia  was  at  the  moment 
too  much  occupied  in  admiring  herself  in  her  friend's 
mirror  to  notice  her  agitation,  and  she  replied  care- 


"  The  men  think  her  very  beautiful.    Philodemus  tells 
H3 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

me  Marcus  is  positively  foolish  over  her.  But  she, 
forsooth,  gives  herself  virtuous  airs,  and  repulses 
him." 

Berenice  felt  her  heart  sink  at  this  evidently  scanty 
appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the  Christian  girl,  and 
she  said  with  uncontrolled  bitterness — 

"Ah,  these  men,  these  men!" 

To  which  the  fair  Dacia  replied,  somewhat  unreason- 
ably, but  with  decided  emphasis — 

"  That's  exactly  what  1  say." 

The  gong  in  the  atrium  sounded  once  more,  and  Catia 
entered. 

"Well?"  asked  her  mistress.  This  might  be  Marcus ! 
But  no,  for  Catia  announced  only — "Tigellinus  and 
Licinius." 

"Ah!  Let  them  enter,"  said  Berenice.  At  least, 
they  could  give  her  the  latest  news  of  Marcus  and 
Mercia.  Throwing  herself  in  a  graceful  attitude  upon 
the  couch,  she  extended  her  hand  to  Tigellinus  as  he 
entered  with  L/icinius,  and  said — 

"Welcome,  both.  Your  names  were  upon  our  lips 
but  a  moment  ago." 

"  Happy  names  to  be  so  sweetly  placed !"  gallantly 
said  Tigellinus,  kissing  her  hand.  "Would  that  my 
lips  had  lingered  where  my  name  did  lodge  that  moment 
ago !" 

"  Hast  thou  left  grave  State  affairs  to  make  pretty 
speeches  upon  ladies'  lips  ?"  asked  Berenice,  with  a 
bewitching  smile. 

"  The  causes  for  the  day  are  tried,  and,  for  the  time 
at  least,  we  are  free,  lady,"  replied  the  Councillor. 
144 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

« The  causes  tried  ?  Hath  the  Prefect  Marcus  left 
the  Palace  of  Justice?"  asked  Berenice,  with  an  air  of 
indifference  which  did  not  mislead  the  astute  and  cun- 
ning men  who  were  keenly  watching  her. 

"  Yes,  lady.     He  left  when  we  did." 

11  And  that  was ?"  asked  Berenice  anxiously. 

"  Half  an  hour  ago,"  was  the  seemingly  careless 
reply. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  I  thought  that  he "  and  Berenice 

paused. 

"  That  he  what,  lady  ?" 

"Well,  that .  Oh,  what  matters  what  I 

thought?"  said  Berenice,  assuming  a  gaiety  she  was 
far  from  feeling.  "  What's  the  news  in  Eome  to-day  ?" 

"  That  Marcus  has  a  new  toy,"  sneered  Tigellinus, 
with  much  meaning. 

"Indeed?  What  might  that  be?"  asked  Berenice, 
knowing  full  well  what  the  answer  would  be. 

"  Have  you  not  heard  ?"  asked  the  Councillor,  with 
assumed  surprise.  "  And  the  lady  Dacia  here !  Strange, 
hath  she  told  thee  nothing  ?" 

"Dacia  hath  told  me  many  things,"  said  Berenice 
carelessly.  "  To  what  do  you  allude  ?" 

"  I  hardly  like  to  be  the  harbinger  of  evil.  If  thou 
dost  not  already  know,  why  then " 

"  Know  what  ?  Eeally,  my  friend,  the  evil  must  be 
great  indeed  if  thou  dost  hesitate  to  give  it  tongue. 
Have  I  to  mourn  a  fortune  lost — or  a  companion  dead 


"  A  faithless  lover  ?"  cruelly  suggested  Tigellinus. 

"  A  faithless  lover  ?     Marcus  has  never  been " 

10  145 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

"  Did  I  mention  Marcus  ?"  asked  her  relentless  in- 
quisitor,  with  a  smile. 

"  Of  whom  else  were  we  speaking  ?"  said  Berenice 
confusedly. 

"  Ah,  yes,  of  course !  How  foolish  of  me  to  speak  of 
Marcus !  JJet  us  talk  of  something  else.  The  topic  of 
Marcus  and  his  Christian  girl  can  scarcely  interest 
thee,  Berenice."  And  he  turned  to  Dacia. 

"  Women  are  always  interested  in  a  love-story,"  con- 
tinued Berenice. 

"  And  this  is  a  strange  one,  indeed,"  interrupted  the 
cedile.  "'Tis  said  that  Marcus,  the  greatest,  richest 
man  in  Eome,  doth  madly  love  and  vainly  woo  some 
Christian  girl — while  Berenice  doth  pine  for  him  in 
vain." 

This  brutal  speech  had  the  effect  that  was  desired ; 
it  roused  the  anger  of  Berenice,  and  on  that  and  her 
jealousy  these  two  men  intended  to  play. 

"Do  they  dare  say  that  of  me?"  she  asked,  and  her 
eyes  flashed  like  polished  steel.  Your  cleverest  and 
strongest  woman  is  the  most  pliable  and  ductile  weak- 
ling if  you  can  but  excite  her  jealousy;  there  is  noth- 
ing that  she  will  not  believe  and  accept,  provided  that 
it  is  exactly  that  of  which  the  acceptance  will  pain  and 
wound  her  most. 

In  imagination  Berenice  pictured  the  looks,  smiles, 
nods,  and  covert  sneers  of  her  many  female  friends,  all, 
as  she  imagined,  busily  employed  discussing  and  enjoy- 
ing her  humiliation.  Poor  Berenice !  it  was  hard  in- 
deed for  her  to  bear.  Her  pride,  her  vanity,  and  worse 
than  all,  her  love,  was  sorely  wounded ;  and  her  dear 
146 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

friend,  Dacia,  femininely  and  feverishly  anxious  to  let 
no  chance  slip  of  sending  the  barbed  arrow  home, 
said — 

"  Indeed  they  do,  and  for  thy  devotion  they  now 
laugh  at  thee." 

Can  anything  be  sweeter  than  female  friendship  in 
the  ordinary  realisation  of  that  charming  ideal !  Poor 
Berenice !  It  was  certainly  hard  to  be  compelled  to 
believe  herself  an  object  of  compassion  and  ridicule. 
She,  who  had  imagined  herself  the  most  desired  and 
courted  of  women  !  And  for  whom  was  she  neglected  ? 
Not  even  for  one  of  her  own  rank,  but  for  a  vulgar, 
nameless  Christian — an  associate  of  the  vile  scum  that 
had  burned  down  Eome  ;  who  met  in  secret  to  perform 
their  detestable  rites  and  ceremonies ;  whose  crimes 
Were  almost  unmentionable.  No  wonder  Berenice  was 
furious ! 

"Didst  thou  come  here  to  tell  me  this?"  she  asked 
bitterly  of  Tigellinus. 

"No,  but  to  serve  thee,"  he  answered  with  an 
assumption  of  extreme  solicitude. 

"  How  canst  thou  serve  me  ?" 

"  By  helping  thee  to  revenge  thyself." 

"  On  this  girl,  Mercia  ?"  said  Berenice,  with  the 
utmost  contempt  for  her  supposed  rival. 

"  And  on  Marcus,"  suggested  the  crafty  officer. 

"  How  ?"  Berenice  asked  the  question,  but  her  heart 
told  her  that,  angry  as  she  was  with  Marcus,  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  harm  him. 

"  Well,  thou  knowest  that  Marcus  has  full  power  to 
judge  and  punish  these  Christians.  He  has  chosen  to 

147 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

spare  this  girl,  Mercia,  and  keeps  her  a  prisoner  in  his 
own  palace." 

"  Eepeat  this  to  Nero,  not  to  me,"  coldly  replied 
Berenice. 

«Eh?" 

«  Why  not  ?" 

"  And  Poppaea  ?"  asked  Tigellinus,  exchanging  a  look 
with  Licinius  that  conveyed  his  fear  of  the  conse- 
quences of  such  an  act  on  his  part.  "  If  she  should 
learn  that  I  had  tried  to  injure  Marcus,  the  gods  be 
with  me!" 

"  What  then  do  you  propose  ?"  quietly  asked  Berenice. 

"  That  you  yourself  do  visit  Poppsea ;  tell  her  of 
Marcus'  infatuation,  and  induce  her  to  influence  Nero 
to  send  this  girl  to  the  lions." 

Angry  as  Berenice  was,  impatient  as  she  felt  to 
revenge  herself  for  the  slight  she  had  suffered,  her 
ideas  of  honour  were  high  enough  to  teach  her  that  the 
part  of  informer  was  a  degraded  and  revolting  one, 
and  she  answered  haughtily — 

"  A  contemptible  piece  of  work,  that  I  care  not  to 
undertake."  Here  she  rose  from  her  couch  and  walked 
away,  as  if  to  imply  that  she  wished  to  discontinue  the 
conversation. 

But  Tigellinus  would  not  lot  the  matter  rest  there  ; 
he  had  come  for  a  purpose — that  purpose  was  to  use 
Berenice  as  his  cat's-paw  to  pluck  the  chestnuts  of  the 
Empress's  influence  from  the  Neronian  fire ;  and  he  did 
not  intend  to  leave  until  he  had  obtained  his  desire. 
Again  he  thrust  the  poniard  of  ridicule  through  the 
armour  of  her  self-esteem  by  saying — 
I48 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

"Then  let  Mercia  live,  and  Eome  still  pity  Bere- 
nice!" And  Tigellinus  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
walked  to  the  window,  as  if  to  enjoy  the  spectacle  of 
Eome's  sympathy  for  Berenice. 

Dacia  had  no  motive,  really,  in  pressing  and  urging 
Berenice  on  to  bring  about  the  separation  of  Marcus 
and  Mercia,  except  the  essentially  feminine  one  of 
meddling  with  all  love-affairs,  home-made  or  foreign. 

"  Berenice,"  she  said,  "  have  more  spirit !  I  should 
like  to  see  the  man  who  would  fling  me  aside  for  any 
Christian  girl !" 

Berenice  was  torn  with  the  conflict  of  love,  pride, 
humiliation,  anger,  and  shame,  and  she  asked  herself, 
aloud — 

"  What  can  I  do  ?" 

And  Tigellinus  answered,  "  Eevenge  thyself  for  the 

slight  put  upon  thee.  This  man  Marcus "  And 

then  he  wisely  stopped,  for  the  man  Marcus  had 
entered  the  room,  and  was  quietly  enjoying  his  dis- 
comfiture. There  was  a  pause,  and  an  uncomfortable 
one.  Dacia  was  the  only  unmoved  person  in  the 
room ;  she  wore  her  usual  placid  smile,  and  munched 
some  grapes,  which  she  took  from  a  dish  on  the  table 
near  her.  The  two  officers  were  enraged  at  the  inter- 
ruption, and  Berenice  regretful  that  she  had  been  dis- 
covered discussing  Marcus  with  his  enemies,  and  by 
Marcus  himself. 

Marcus  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  asked, 
with  some  irony, — 

"  Am  I  in  the  way,  lady  ?" 

Tigellinus  answered  for  her,  with  a  rudeness  he 
149 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

would  have  hesitated  to  offer  Marcus  elsewhere  than 
in  a  lady's  presence,  saying — 

"Were  you  eavesdropping,  Prefect?" 

Marcus  controlled  himself  with  some  little  difficulty  ; 
he  was  too  well-bred  to  create  or  desire  a  brawl  in 
a  lady's  chamber,  and  he  contented  himself  with 
answering — 

"  No.  Were  you  discussing  my  character  ?"  Then, 
turning  to  Berenice,  he  inquired,  "  Were  Tigellinus  and 
Licinius  wearying  you  with  my  praises,  fair  Berenice  ? 
I  know  how  dearly  they  love  me.  Silent  still,  my 
Licinius  ?  Hast  thou  not  yet  recovered  the  breath  I 
knocked  out  of  thy  most  precious  body  in  that  little 
accident  in  the  Grove  ?" 

The  Councillor  smiled  grimly  at  the  recollection  of 
that  "little  accident"  to  his  friend,  while  the  sedile 
scowlingly  answered — 

"  I  have  breath  enough  to  keep  me  alive,  Excellence." 

"  Provided  thou  dost  not  encounter  anything  more 
formidable  than  a  weak  boy,  or  a  frail  girl,  eh  ?"  asked 
Marcus. 

"  The  boy  and  the  girl  were  traitors  both.  I  did  but 
my  duty,"  was  the  surly  answer. 

"  Duty  ?  Ah,  duty  is  responsible  for  strange  crimes 
in  Eome."  Then,  turning  his  back  upon  the  two  men, 
he  turned  to  Berenice,  who  had  been  a  not  altogether 
unamused  witness  of  the  confusion  and  annoyance  of 
the  two  officers,  and  asked  again — 

"  Am  I  intruding,  fair  Berenice  ?" 

"No,  indeed,  Marcus,"  quickly  answered  the  lady. 
"  Pray  thee,  stay.  I  wish  to  speak  with  thee." 

150 


THE  WOOING  OF   BERENICE 

Then,  turning  to  Dacia,  she  gave  that  lady  a  look  of 
meaning,  and  Dacia  rose,  dropping  her  fan  as  she  did 
so,  and  said — 

"I  was  just  about  to  go  when  you  entered,  Marcus. 
Will  you  pardon  me,  Berenice?"  Then,  looking  for 
Tigellinus  and  Licinius,  she  laughed,  for  they  were 
scowling  upon  Marcus  with  an  intensity  that  might 
have  alarmed  a  less  reckless  man  than  he,  and  said  to 
them — 

"  Gentlemen,  will  you  accompany  me  ?  I  think  it 
would  be  well,  for,  verily,  you  both  look  so  fierce  that 
I  should  fear  for  Marcus  should  he  be  left  alone  with 
you." 

With  unveiled  contempt,  Marcus  said — 

"  Pray,  have  no  fear  for  me,  lady.  The  harm  they 
will  do  me  will  be  in  my  absence,  or  when  my  back  is 
turned.  It  is  not  the  soldier's  sword,  but  the  assassin's 
knife  that  thou  or  Marcus  need  fear  from  a  Tigellinus 
or  a  Licinius." 

The  insult  was  so  direct  and  gross  that  Tigellinus 
was  stung  to  the  quick.  Partly  drawing  his  sword,  he 
was  about  to  rush  upon  Marcus,  but  Berenice  inter- 
posed, saying  with  much  disgust — 

"  You  forget  this  is  my  house.  I  will  have  no  quar- 
relling here.  Please  go." 

Tigellinus  was  glaring  with  rage  at  Marcus,  who 
smiled  back  with  perfect  unconcern.  Berenice  held 
out  her  hand  to  the  Councillor  as  a  sign  of  dis- 
missal, and  he  had  no  choice  but  to  bend  over  it  and 
say— 

"Lady,  I  obey." 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  How  glad  is  he  to  be  obedient,"  laughed  Marcus 
lightly. 

Tigellinus  made  another  threatening  movement,  but 
Dacia  held  his  arm,  and  said — 

"  Come,  come,  gentlemen ;  I  am  in  haste.  Do  you 
accompany  me  or  no  ?" 

With  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  Tigellinus  turned 
towards  the  entrance  to  the  room,  and  there  awaited 
Dacia,  who  was  saying  to  her  friend — 

"  Farewell,  dear  Berenice."  Turning  to  Marcus,  she 
said — 

"  Take  good  care  of  your  fair  Christian,  Prefect,  but 
do  not  let  her  run  you  into  the  danger  of  Nero's  anger. 
A  few  hours'  dallying  with  a  pretty  girl  is  but  scant 
reward  for  disgrace  and  a  dungeon.  Be  prudent,  Mar- 
cus, be  prudent." 

"  I  will  be  prudent,  lady,  most  prudent,''  answered 
Marcus  quietly,  but  inwardly  chafing  at  such  mention 
of  the  lovely  Mercia.  With  a  parting  smile  from  Dacia 
and  a  scowl  from  Tigellinus,  Marcus  was  left  alone  with 
Berenice. 

For  what  purpose  she  had  sent  for  him  he  did  not 
know  ;  indeed,  he  had  scarcely  troubled  to  think.  His 
thoughts  had  been  elsewhere.  In  the  Palace  of  Justice 
he  had  been  preoccupied  and  absent-minded.  He  scarce 
heard  the  causes,  barely  knew  who  addressed  him. 

His  thoughts  were  elsewhere,  his  soul  was  perturbed 
and  his  mind  distracted.  The  death  of  Favius  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  him.  Not  a  word  had  the 
old  man  uttered ;  he  had  scarcely  moved  after  receiving 
the  thrust  that  so  speedily  released  his  spirit,  but  the 
152 


THE  WOOING  OF   BERENICE 

unearthly  beauty  of  his  face,  as  his  bodily  strength 
failed  and  his  spiritual  power  seemed  to  grow,  caused 
Marcus  the  greatest  wonderment.  Was  this  the  death 
of  a  plotting  politician  and  would-be  regicide?  That 
glory  of  feature  and  peace  of  soul  the  outcome  of  a  life 
of  vile  conspiracy  and  dastard  scheming  ?  No ;  it  was 
impossible !  There  was  in  him,  as  in  that  sweet  girl 
Mercia,  something  apart  from  life  as  he  knew  it — as  all 
his  friends  supposed  it.  What  was  that  something  ? 
This  thing  they  called  their  Faith  ?  He  had  almost 
forgotten  where  he  was. 

Meanwhile,  his  hostess  was  watching  him  closely. 
She  had  sent  for  him;  he  had  come. '  And  now,  what 
could  she  say  to  him?  She  felt  that  he  had  come 
unwillingly,  as  a  mere  matter  of  form  and  courtesy ; 
his  manner  and  attitude  proved  that.  Why,  oven 
now  he  was  absent-minded  and  longing  to  be  gone. 
Her  pride  chafed  under  the  knowledge,  but  she  con- 
trolled herself,  and  determined  that,  come  what  might, 
she  would  continue  to  do  so.  He  should  not  see  how 
she  suffered. 

Marcus  lifted  his  eyes,  to  find  Berenice  watching 
him,  and  he  called  back  his  wandering  thoughts,  saying 
with  an  affectation  of  lightness  that  did  not  mislead  or 
deceive  her — 

"  You  sent  for  me,  lady  ?" 

Yes,  she  had  sent  for  him,  but  need  he  remind  her 
of  that  ?  Would  a  lover  tell  his  mistress  that  he  had 
come  by  order  ?  She  noted  the  coolness  of  the  greet- 
ing, and  answered — 

"  I  did ;  and  most  unwillingly  thou  hast  come." 

153 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

Marcus  looked  at  the  beautiful  creature  before  him, 
and  some  compunction  smote  him  for  his  callousness. 
After  all,  she  was  a  grandly  noble  woman.  Woman  in 
a  very  high  sense  of  the  word  indeed,  even  if  not  in 
the  highest;  and,  as  he  looked,  he  remembered  so 
many  acts  of  tender  thoughtfulness  on  her  part  towards 
himself  that  he  felt  something  like  a  little  flush  of 
shame  at  the  thought  of  his  churlish  response,  and  he 
answered  with  more  warmth — 

"  Unwillingly  ?  Nay,  Berenice  doth  not  know  Bere- 
nice." 

Berenice  heard,  with  the  quick  ear  of  a  woman's 
love,  the  pretty  intention  of  the  speech,  and  the  lack 
of  depth  in  the  tone  in  which  it  was  spoken ;  she 
answered  the  tone  rather  than  the  words,  saying — 

"Nay,  Berenice  doth  need  no  compliments  from 
Marcus." 

It  was  a  compliment  and  nothing  more,  and  Marcus 
knew  it. 

When  a  young,  beautiful,  and  gifted  woman  begs 
for  something  from  a  man  beyond  mere  compliments, 
what  is  that  man  to  do?  Given  the  fact  that  the 
woman  is  worthy,  that  she  is  sincere,  that  her  implied 
or  confessed  love  for  a  man  is  honest,  the  man  who 
receives  the  confession  or  the  implied  avowal  of  these 
sentiments  in  a  woman's  breast  is  in  a  difficult  posi- 
tion. How  far  is  he  cruel  in  being  kind  ?  How  far  is 
he  kind  in  being  cruel?  Marcus  was  not  unkind  nat- 
urally :  indeed,  he  was  kind  to  a  fault.  The  yearning, 
limpid  look  in  Berenice's  eyes  touched  him,  and  he 
quickly  said — 

154 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

"  How  can  I  serve  thee,  lady !" 

Still  Berenice  felt  that  here  was  but  kindness, — not 
what  she  desired,  the  great,  strong  master-passion, 
love, — and  she  lightly  said — 

"  Now  Marcus  is  himself.  The  purse  is  open, — how 
much  will  serve  ?" 

"  Nay,  Berenice  can  need  no  gold  of  mine,"  said 
Marcus. 

"  But  if  I  did  ?"  she  asked,  half  sitting  and  half  re- 
clining on  the  couch. 

"  If  thou  didst,"  he  answered  sincerely,  "  then  I 
should  say — not,  How  much  will  serve  ?  but,  All  that  I 
have  is  thine, — knowing  full  well  that  it  would  be 
returned." 

Still  it  was  the  friend  and  not  the  lover  who  spoke. 
And  Berenice  sighed  as  she  replied — 

"  Ah,  so  in  my  heart  said  I,  all  that  I  have  is  thine, 
— not  knowing  it  would  be  returned." 

It  was  not  possible  to  mistake  her  meaning.  What 
should  he  do  ?  What  ought  he  to  say  ?  What  he  did 
say  was  not  quite  the  truth. 

"  I  do  not  understand  thee,  lady." 

"  Thou  wilt  not  understand." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  better  that  I  do  not  try,"  was  the 
answer  that  involuntarily  escaped  Marcus. 

"  Am  I  so  very  repulsive  ?     Others  do  not  think  so." 

"  Others  ?  Nay,  all  are  agreed  patrician  Rome  can 
boast  no  fairer  daughter  than  Berenice." 

The  emphasis  came,  unwittingly,  rather  heavily 
upon  the  word  "patrician"  ;  the  sharp  watchfulness  of 
Berenice  noted  and  pounced  upon  it  instantly. 

155 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"Patrician  Borne,"  she  said,  with  a  still  heavier 
emphasis  upon  the  particular  word ;  and  then,  with  a 
little  uplifting  of  the  delicate  eyebrows,  she  continued — 

"  Marcus  could  scarce  look  lower." 

This  was  a  home-thrust  for  Marcus,  who  knew  that 
Mercia  was  in  her  mind  as  she  spoke.  He  coloured 
slightly,  but  with,  for  him,  rare  discretion,  he  remained 
silent,  and  Berenice  continued,  scarcely  daring  now  to 
look  at  him — 

"  We  are  both  rich  ;  indeed,  our  wealth  united  might 
buy  an  empire." 

This  was  true  enough.  Had  Marcus  been  ambitious 
there  was  but  little  he  might  not,  with  such  riches, 
achieve.  A  throne  had  been  bought  and  sold  for  much 
less  than  their  joint  wealth.  Again,  what  could  he 
say  ?  A  woman  can  refuse  an  offer  from  a  man, — 
nay,  stop  him  before  he  gets  to  the  point  of  avowal, — 
but  the  task  is  not  so  easy  when  the  usual  position  is 
reversed.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  her  meaning; 
but  what  could  he  say  or  do  ? 

"  Berenice !"  he  began. 

,  Berenice  lost  control  of  herself.  She  had  suffered 
much  that  morning ;  her  love  for  Marcus  was  sincere, 
and  her  passion  equalled  her  love.  The  thought  that 
he  might  be  drifting  into  a  like  passion  for  another  was 
more  than  the  barrier  of  her  womanly  reserve  could 
bear,  and,  with  a  rush  of  emotion,  it  was  swept  away. 
Turning  to  him,  she  said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and 
voice — 

"  Marcus,  Marcus,  canst  thou  not  see  what  is  in  my 
heart  ?     Dost  thou  not  know  it  is  no  girlish  fancy,  but 
156 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

the  deep,  strong  love  of  a  woman  who  has  never  loved 
before — whose  whole  nature  has  been  held  back  so 
long  that,  unless  the  floodgates  are  unbarred,  the  pent- 
up  tide  will  burst  all  bounds  and  engulf  her — body, 
mind,  and  soul !  Marcus,  pity  me !  forgive  me!"  And 
she  sank,  weeping,  with  her  face  hidden  in  the  cushions 
of  the  couch. 

Marcus  was  deeply  moved — how  could  he  be  other- 
wise? Berenice  was  no  ordinary  woman,  and  this 
frank  avowal  touched  the  better  part  of  his  nature. 
He  spoke  truly  when  he  said — 

"  Berenice,  thou  dost  pain  and  shame  me  1  Thou,  all 
BO  prodigal  of  love  and  I  so  miserly " 

"  Marcus !" 

"  Believe  me,  I  am  honoured,  grateful ;  and  if  all  the 
respect  that  man  can  show  for  woman,  if  devotion, 
friendship " 

"  Friendship  ?  I  ask  for  love — you  offer  friendship !" 
said  Berenice  with  intense  bitterness. 

"  I  offer  all  I  have  to  give,  lady,"  Marcus  answered 
gravely  and  respectfully. 

So!  She  had  played — and  lost!  Had  staked  all, 
and  in  vain  !  She  had  forgotten  her  womanhood ;  had 
begged  and  had  been  refused !  Oh,  the  shame  of  it ! 
The  humiliation !  That  she  should  so  far  forget  herself 
as  to  throw  herself  at  the  feet  of  any  man — even  a 
Marcus — and  find  herself  declined  !  A  sudden  rush  of 
indignation  swept  over  her ;  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  her 
eyes  blazing  with  anger,  and  said — 

"  All  thou  hast  to  give  ?  Ay,  all  that  thou  hast  to 
give  to  me — but  to  another,  to  this  girl,  this  Christian  ?" 

157 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

And  she  spoke  the  word  "  Christian"  with  loathing. 
"  Hast  thou  aught  else  to  give  to  her  ?" 

Marcus  was  angry  now.  Her  contempt  for  the  ex- 
quisite creature  who  had  been  uppermost  in  his  thoughts 
since  his  first  meeting  with  her  was  more  than  his  tem- 
per could  bear,  and  he  asked  with  much  acerbity — 

"  Was  it  for  this  that  you  sent  for  me  ?" 

"  No,  no !"  said  Berenice  ;  "  I  sent  for  you  before  I 
had  heard  of  this  girl ;  but  it  is  true  ?  Is  it  ?  Thou 
dost  love  this  Mercia  !  Thou  dost !  Thou  dost !  Mar- 
cus caught  at  last,  and  by  the  baby  face  of  a  miserable 
Christian  girl !  Ha,  ha,  ha !"  She  burst  into  a  peal 
of  wild  and  hysterical  laughter  that  was  perilously  near 
to  sobbing;  and,  as  she  spoke,  she  paced  the  room. 
"This  worse  than  beggar,  whose  life  is  forfeit  to  the 
law !  Marcus  loves  a  wretched  Christian — a  thing  de- 
spised and  loathed — the  companion  of  thieves  and  mur- 
derers— the  scum  of  Eome — a  degraded  schemer — an 
outcast — a "j 

Marcus,  furious  that  so  delicate  and  lovely  a  soul 
should  be  so  miscalled,  cried  sternly — 

"  Stop,  Berenice !  I  will  not  hear  you !" 

But  she  was  not  to  be  so  easily  stayed.  Her  face 
was  crimson  with  anger.  Her  eyes  ablaze  with  jealousy, 
furiously  she  cried — 

"  You  shall  hear  me !" 

"  I  will  not.  I  take  my  leave,"  replied  Marcus,  going 
towards  the  door.  But  Berenice  interposed,  say- 
ing— 

"  You  shall  not  go  until  you've  heard  me !  Love  is 
so  near  to  hate  that  one  step  past  the  boundary  line 

158 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

and  love  is  lost  in  loathing !  Have  a  care,  Marcus ! 
Berenice  will  not  be  scorned  and  bear  it !" 

"  Does  Berenice  stoop  to  threaten  ?" 

"  Stoop  ?  Ye  gods !  can  I  stoop  lower  than  I  have 
done  ?" 

"Yes,  lady,  for  true  love  is  no  dishonour,  but 
treachery  is." 

"I  care  not!"  she  exclaimed  recklessly.  She  had 
gone  too  far  to  retreat  now ;  she  knew  her  cause  was 
lost.  Her  hatred  for  the  girl  who  had  come  between 
her  and  her  desires  was  unbounded,  and  she  went 
on — 

"  I  will  love  or  hate !  Art  thou  blind  ?  Dost  think 
all  Home  does  not  know  this  girl  is  in  thy  house  ?" 

"I  care  not!"  contemptuously  replied  Marcus. 

"  Eome  laughs,  and  swears  thou  dost  plead  to  her  in 
vain." 

"  I  care  not !"  again  replied  Marcus. 

"  But  is  it  true  ?"  asked  the  almost  frantic  woman. 

"Lady,  it  is  true,"  was  the  frank  reply.  " I  do  love 
Mercia — and  I  do  plead  to  her  in  vain." 

Womanly  pride  should  have  come  to  her  help  at 
such  an  answer;  but  woman's  weapons  are  not  always 
at  hand  when  most  required.  Just  now  all  her  pride 
was  swamped  in  a  torrent  of  mingled  rage,  hate, 
jealousy,  shame,  love,  and  despair;  she  threw  herself 
recklessly  upon  the  couch,  and  burst  into  a  passionate, 
unrestrained  fit  of  sobbing. 

Poor  Berenice !  Poor  Marcus !  Is  there  any  posi- 
tion in  which  a  man  of  heart  and  feeling  can  be  placed 
wherein  he  can  feel  more  helpless  than  when  he^  is 

159 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

alone  with  a  lovely  woman,  who  is  sobbing  her  heart 
out  for  his  sake,  and  he  cannot  take  the  suffering  one 
in  his  arms  and  kiss  and  comfort  her  back  to  happi- 
ness? Probably  the  wisest  course  for  him  to  have 
adopted  would  have  been  to  have  left  her  to  herself; 
yet  that  seemed  brutal,  and  he  did  the  most  foolish 
possible  thing,  instead  of  the  wisest.  He  went  to  her 
and  begged  her  to  "  be  calm,"  at  the  same  time  gently 
touching  the  hand  which  was  clutching  the  head  of  the 
couch.  The  half-pitying  tone  of  his  voice  completed 
her  rage.  She  started  up,  and  with  intense  scorn  and 
contempt,  said — 

"  Marcus,  pleading  in  vain  for  the  caresses  of  a 
Christian  wanton !" 

Berenice  was  even  more  indiscreet  than  Marcus  had 
been.  No  man  cares  to  have  a  woman  he  loves  so 
called,  even  if  there  be  grounds  for  the  accusation ; 
but,  in  the  case  of  Mercia,  it  was  an  outrage,  almost  a 
blasphemy,  and  he  shuddered  at  what  seemed  to  him  a 
profanation.  With  much  dignity,  although  white  with 
anger,  he  turned  upon  Berenice,  and  said — 

"  What  Borne  may  say  of  me  troubles  me  nothing ; 
what  Rome  or  Berenice  may  say  of  this  young  girl 
troubles  me  much.  She  is  no  schemer,  no  degraded 
woman  1  She  is  the  purest,  sweetest,  and  most  crystal 
soul  that  lives  in  Eome  this  day.  What  this  Chris- 
tianity is  I  know  not,  but  this  I  know — that  if  it 
makes  many  such  women  as  Mercia,  Rome,  nay,  the 
whole  world  will  be  all  the  purer  for  it !" 

"  You  dare  speak  thus  of  her  to  me  ?"  cried  Bere- 
nice, almost  breathless  with  passion. 
1 60 


THE   WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

"  Dare  ?     Why  not  dare,  lady  ?" 

"  How  if  I  repeat  your  words  ?" 

"  Eepeat  them  if  thou  wilt !" 

"  To  Nero  ?" 

"To  Nero!" 

"  Yes.     What  then  ?" 

Ah,  what  then,  indeed?  For  himself  Marcus  had 
no  thought,  but  for  Mercia !  What  evil  spirit  was  it 
that  was  ever  at  work  to  divert  every  kind  thought, 
every  effort  on  his  part  for  the  girl's  good  to  her  hurt 
and  evil?  No  movement  yet  that  Marcus  had  made 
in  her  behalf  had  resulted  in  any  real  benefit;  now 
he  had  made  an  enemy  for  her  in  Berenice,  while  yet 
another  was  to  come, — and  he  the  most  cruel  and  un- 
relenting, Nero.  No  wonder  Marcus  paused  before  he 
answered — 

"  What  then  ?  It  is  hard  to  say  what  then.  I  can 
only  hope  that  Berenice  will  never  stoop  to  turn  in- 
former against  Marcus." 

"Will  you  give  up  this  girl  ?"  asked  Berenice. 

"  No,  lady,  no,"  was  the  firm  reply. 

"  You  shall !  I'll  force  you !  Take  care  I  Measure 
my  determination  with  your  own,  and  add  to  my  ad- 
vantage the  hate  I  bear  her  and  Nero's  power  to  injure 
you." 

For  a  moment  he  surveyed  her  in  silence,  then  in 
clear,  determined  accents  he  replied — 

"Neither   Berenice,   her  anger   nor   her   hate,  nor 

Nero,  backed  by  all  his  legions,  can  keep  Mercia  from 

me.     There  is  not  a  nerve  in  all  my  body  that  does  not 

call  for  her — not  a  thought  in  all  my  brain  that  does 

ii  161 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

not  encompass  her.  Now  the  truth  is  told,  I  leave 
you.  No  good  can  come  of  further  argument.  Lady, 
farewell." 

And  he  was  going  in  such  anger  that  any  future 
reconciliation  was  impossible  unless  he  could  be  in- 
duced to  soften  towards  her  ere  he  left ;  and  Berenice 
made  her  last  pitiable  effort  to  lessen  the  breach  be- 
tween them,  saying — 

"  Nay,  Marcus !     Stay — do  stay !" 

Marcus  now  did  what  he  should  have  done  sooner — 
firmly  declined  to  remain. 

"No;  I  have  stayed  too  long.  No  man  should  war 
with  women,  even  with  words.  Lady,  farewell."  And 
with  a  low,  respectful  bow,  he  was  gone. 

Berenice  returned  to  her  couch  and  to  her  tears ;  she 
sobbed  herself  hoarse.  All  was  desolation  to  her  now. 
Her  wealth,  her  beauty,  her  influence,  the  flattery  of 
the  base,  the  admiration  of  the  honest — all  were  as 
Dead  Sea  fruit,  embittered  by  the  loss  of  the  one  thing 
that  made  them  all  sweet — the  love  of  the  man  she 
worshipped.  It  was  long  before  she  was  roused  from 
the  passion  of  grief  and  despair  to  that  of  revenge, 
but  the  moment  came  at  last,  and  she  sprang  up  say- 
ing— 

"Eeject  me!  Reject  me  for  this  wretched,  tawdry, 
mock -modest  Christian!  Insult  me  for  her!  Scorn 
Berenice  for  a  Mercia !  Oh,  for  the  power  to  humble 
him  as  he  has  humbled  me !" 

Then  into  her  mind  came  the  thought  of  another 
woman  who  loved  Marcus — the  Empress  Poppsea. 
She,  too,  had  come  to  hate  this  Christian  girl,  and 
162 


THE  WOOING   OF   BERENICE 

she  would  help  her  to  a  joint-revenge.  Poppsea's  influ- 
ence with  Nero,  Berenice  knew,  was  unbounded.  Yes, 
she  would  go  to  Poppsea,  as  Tigellinus  had  suggested. 
There  was  no  thought  now  of  the  meanness  of  striking 
at  Mercia  through  the  instrumentality  of  Nero.  Ivet 
the  low-bred  creature  go  to  the  lions,  or  the  flames  I 
It  could  not  be  greater  torture  than  the  humiliation 
she  had  endured  that  day.  One  more  or  less  of  these 
degraded  outcasts  done  to  death — what  mattered  it? 
She  would  be  revenged.  Marcus,  too,  should  suffer. 
She  would  not  be  scorned,  laughed  at,  made  the  jest 
and  by- word  of  the  whole  city,  and  bear  it  tamely! 
Poppsea  and  Nero  could  help  her,  and  they  should ! 
Thus,  nursing  her  wrath,  Berenice  called  for  her  at- 
tendants and  her  chariot,  and  was  driven  rapidly  to 
Poppsea. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

SOME    PERPLEXITIES 

MARCUS  was  in  great  perplexity  when  he  left  Bere- 
nice ;  he  was  troubled  by  the  power  that  Mercia  had 
gained  over  him.  Here  was  a  girl,  of  whose  very  ex- 
istence he  was  ignorant  only  a  few  hours  ago,  occupy- 
ing his  every  thought  and  controlling  his  every  action. 
For  her  sake  he  had  gone  dangerously  near  disobeying 
Nero's  commands,  been  guilty  of  gross  rudeness  to 
the  Empress,  insulted  Tigellinus,  and  quarrelled  with 
Berenice.  Even  now,  in  spite  of  the  difficulties  in 
which  he  had  become  enmeshed  through  her,  his  one 
wish  was  to  hasten  back  to  his  palace  that  he  might 
see  her  again.  He  was  in  love  with  every  fibre  of  his 
body  and  all  the  strength  of  his  soul,  and  when  love 
comes  to  a  man  like  Marcus  after  youth  has  passed,  it 
comes  with  the  fury  of  the  whirlwind.  He  could 
think  of  nothing  but  Mercia,  see  only  her  lovely  face, 
hear  naught  save  her  sweet,  gentle  voice.  The  first 
fierce,  overwhelming  love  of  an  ardently  passionate 
nature  had  swept  through  him  with  irresistible  force. 
That  he  desired  her  more  than  any  other  woman  he 
had  ever  seen,  and  with  a  warmth  he  had  never  con- 
ceived possible,  he  knew ;  but  that  his  passion  was  not 
to  be  gratified  according  to  his  custom  was  a  possibility 
that  had  not  as  yet  presented  itself.  He  had  to  learn 
that  his  love  for  Mercia  possessed  a  depth  and  strength 


SOME  PERPLEXITIES 

that  had  the  power  to  make  it  the  be-all  and  end-all 
of  his  life.  Had  such  a  thought  come  to  him  he  would 
have  derided  it.  What !  Marcus,  the  wealthiest  and 
most  courted  man  in  Rome,  to  be  bound  to  a  mere 
Christian  girl,  of  whose  family  and  history  he  knew 
actually  nothing!  No,  that  would  be  too  absurd! 
Still,  as  he  passed  from  the  house  of  Berenice  to  his 
own,  he  wondered  yet  again  what  it  was  in  Mercia 
that  so  moved  him.  Beautiful  as  she  was,  it  was  not 
her  beauty  that  held,  although  it  had  at  first  attracted 
him.  It  was  a  stronger,  deeper  influence  than  that. 
What  was  it  ?  He  would  go  to  her  and  see  her  again. 
Perhaps  the  glamour  would  pass  away  on  closer  ac- 
quaintance ;  it  might,  after  all,  be  but  another  feminine 
trick  of  manner  that  had  caught  him  by  its  freshness. 
He  would  go  to  her  at  once  and  learn,  if  possible,  what 
was  the  secret  of  her  charm.  But  he  was  destined  to 
wait  before  he  could  see  Mercia  again. 

Mercia,  on  her  part,  was  torn  by  many  conflicting 
emotions  and  fears.  Her  task  of  self-judgment  was 
no  easy  one.  She  knew  she  loved  Marcus,  and  the 
knowledge  was  an  ever-present  reproach  and  shame  to 
her.  For  the  first  time  she  realized  tbe  meaning  of 
all  the  warnings  and  counsels  she  had  received  from 
her  parents  and  guides  as  to  the  dangers  that  lurked 
around  her.  That  which  before  seemed  wildly  improb- 
able now  began  to  look  dimly  possible,  and  the  thought 
made  her  shudder. 

All  the  forces  were,  apparently,  ranged  on  the  side 
of  Marcus.  He  held  her  captive  in  his  palace,  where 
she  was  absolutely  at  his  mercy;  his  wealth,  his 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

physical  power,  his  dominant  will,  his  reckless  dis- 
regard of  all  authority  or  moral  restraint  when  his 
passions  were  roused  (and  never  had  they  been  so 
roused  as  now),  were  weapons  that  threatened  to 
decide  the  contest  swiftly  and  decidedly  against  Mer- 
cia.  To  all  these  advantages  was  to  be  added  her 
love  for  him,  and  with  that  love  she  fought,  but  fought 
in  vain. 

On  her  side  were  ranged — what?  Her  purity  of 
soul  and  her  Faith.  Would  they  save  her  against 
such  odds?  Verily,  the  fight  appeared  terribly  un- 
equal, and  Mercia  was  sore  afraid. 

All  the  attentions  lavished  upon  her  by  the  orders 
of  Marcus  were  so  many  humiliations,  and  she  refused 
all  the  courtesies  of  the  servants  with  a  firmness  that 
nothing  could  shake.  She  was  a  prisoner,  not  a  guest ; 
she  had  but  one  favour  to  ask — that  the  luxury  of  her 
present  position  should  be  exchanged  for  the  grim 
terrors  of  the  prison  cell.  This  desire  the  servants 
could  not  gratify,  so  Mercia  set  to  work  to  devise 
some  means  of  escape.  The  attendants  were  all  de- 
voted to  Marcus,  and,  knowing  the  importance  he 
attached  to  her  safe  keeping,  they  would  not,  even  if 
they  dared,  help  her  to  gain  her  liberty. 

Wearily  she  paced  round  and  round  in  her  gilded 
cage,  scanning  the  doors,  the  walls, — all  to  no  purpose. 
Hourly  one  of  the  slaves  deputed  to  wait  upon  her 
would  unlock  the  door  and  ask  for  her  commands.  If 
she  had  none  to  give,  he  would  retire,  fastening  the 
door  after  him.  This  door  was  of  solid  bronze,  and 
when  once  locked  could  not  be  moved.  The  walls 
1 66 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

and  floor  were  of  marble.  There  was  but  one  case- 
ment ;  that  was  small,  and  at  least  eleven  feet  from 
the  ground. 

The  hourly  visit  had  been  made,  and  she  would  now 
be  alone  for  some  time ;  could  she  reach  the  casement  ? 
She  would  try.  First  she  drew  one  of  the  couches  to 
the  wall  beneath  it ;  upon  this  she  placed  a  small  table, 
with  triple  legs,  that  seemed  barely  strong  enough  to 
support  her  weight.  However,  she  was  light  and 
active  ;  it  might  do.  It  was  difficult  to  mount,  and 
trembled  ominously  upon  the  soft  couch.  Eventually, 
she  succeeded  in  climbing  upon  it,  only  to  find  herself 
still  at  least  a  foot  below  the  height  required  to  enable 
her  to  reach  the  embrasure.  If  she  sprang  to  it,  could 
she  keep  her  hold  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the  mar- 
ble ?  No,  that  would  be  impossible.  But  there  was  an 
iron  bar  in  the  centre  of  the  opening — could  she  reach 
that?  Should  she  try?  If  she  should  miss  it,  she 
would  fall  back  upon  the  table  or  marble  floor,  and  be 
seriously  injured.  Still,  what  was  the  chance  of  bodily 
pain  and  hurt  to  the  danger  she  feared  from  the  Pre- 
fect' s  evident  passion  for  her  ?  She  would  attempt  it. 

Gathering  all  her  strength  and  energy,  she  sprang  at 
the  bar  and  reached  it.  The  table  was  dashed,  by  the 
force  of  her  leap,  on  to  the  marble  floor  with  a  crash. 
She  trembled,  fearing  this  must  alarm  her  jailer.  But 
no  thought  of  an  attempted  escape  on  her  part  had 
crossed  their  minds ;  they  would  not  have  been  alarmed 
even  had  they  heard  the  noise,  but  they  did  not  do  so. 
Small  and  lithe  of  frame,  she  had  no  difficulty  in  creep- 
ing through  between  the  bar  and  the  wall;  but  she  found 
167 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

that  it  was  at  least  fifteen  feet  from  the  level  of  the  court- 
yard outside.  To  drop  this  would  be  sure  to  result  in 
injury,  if  not  in  broken  limbs.  There  was  her  drapery ! 
This,  when  unwound  from  her  body,  measured  quite 
twelve  feet ;  the  half  of  this  and  her  own  length  of 
arm  would  be  sufficient  to  save  her  too  great  a  drop  to 
the  ground.  Taking  off  the  mantle,  she  wrapped  it 
round  the  bar  of  the  window,  and  looked  around  to  see 
if  the  place  was  clear  of  the  guards.  Alas,  no !  There 
were  two,  quietly  conversing  within  a  few  yards  of  her. 
Until  they  went  away  she  did  not  dare  to  stir,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  they  would  never  go.  The  minutes 
seemed  hours  to  the  gentle  girl,  but  eventually  they 
moved  off  in  the  direction  of  the  palace  gates. 
Quickly  throwing  the  ends  of  the  mantle  outside  the 
casement,  Mercia  lowered  herself  to  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  ground  ;  then,  letting  go  of  one  end  of  her  drapery, 
she  dropped  to  the  pavement,  drawing  her  mantle  with 
her,  and  quickly  sped  across  the  courtyard  towards  the 
street.  Mercia  was  free  and  unharmed. 

Marcus  arrived  at  his  palace  full  of  sweet  and  tender 
thoughts  of  Mercia.  He  was  to  see  her  again !  As  yet 
his  opportunities  for  converse  with  her  had  been  but 
scanty.  Now  she  was  where  he  reigned  supreme ;  he 
had  but  to  command  to  be  obeyed  in  all  things,  and  he 
would  see  her  alone  where  he  would  be  safe  from  inter- 
ruption. His  mind  was  full  of  the  many  things  he 
would  say  to  her  to  calm  her  fears,  soothe  her  sorrows, 
and  build  up  her  confidence  in  him. 

Ordering  the  attendants  on  duty  to  precede  him,  he 
went  to  the  room  in  which  Mercia  had  been  kept.  His 
1 68 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

pulse  quickened  as  the  slave  unlocked  the  door,  and 
he  entered  the  room  in,  for  him,  unwonted  excitement. 
The  place  was  empty.  In  mute  astonishment  the 
slave  stared  about  him. 

"  Where  is  the  lady  ?"  asked  Marcus. 

"  Nay,  Excellence,  I  know  not,"  replied  the  slave. 

"  Hast  thou  let  her  escape  ?" 

"Nay,  Excellence,  I  barred  the  door  but  half  an  hour 
ago.  She  was  then  safe  within." 

Marcus  looked  and  saw  the  overturned  table,  the 
couch  against  the  wall,  and  was  furious. 

"  Idle,  careless  fools !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  she  hath 
escaped  by  that  casement.  Quick !  call  Viturius  and 
the  guard.  Search  the  courtyard.  Haste !  or  your 
lives  shall  answer  for  it ;  haste  !  Viturius !"  Calling 
for  that  officer,  he  rushed  through  the  corridor  to  the 
gates  of  the  palace,  questioning  all  he  met.  No  one 
had  seen  Mercia. 

When  Yiturius  appeared,  he  gave  him  hurried  in- 
structions to  send  to  Mercia's  home,  the  house  of 
Favius,  and  to  all  places  frequented  by  the  Christians. 
His  anxiety  was  great,  his  rage  intense,  and  his  morti- 
fication bitter  indeed.  She  had  flown  from  him  as  she 
might  have  fled  from  a  Tigellinus  or  a  Licinius ;  he  was 
her  jailer,  nothing  more, — a  being  to  fear  and  hate. 
The  thought  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  him ;  he  had 
fondly  believed  that  his  interest  in  her  was  recipro- 
cated, while  all  the  time  she  had  been  scheming  to 
escape  from  his  hated  presence.  But  he  would  find 
her  if  she  were  in  Eome  or  out  of  it ;  and  he  rode  from 
place  to  place  seeking  news  of  her.  All  in  vain.  No 
169 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

one  had  seen  or  heard  of  her,  and  Marcus  returned  to 
his  palace  in  anger  and  despair. 

Berenice,  in  a  white  heat  of  anger  and  with  a  burn- 
ing desire  for  revenge  upon  Mercia,  had  driven  in  her 
chariot  to  Nero's  palace  and  requested  audience  of  the 
Empress.  Poppsea  had  many  reasons  for  keeping  on 
terms  of  friendship  with  the  handsome  patrician.  Her 
wealth  and  influence  were  important  considerations — 
too  important  to  be  overlooked  by  a  court  so  prodigal 
as  Nero's.  Then,  Berenice  could  be  made  a  useful  link 
between  Poppsea  and  Marcus  ;  an  alliance  between  the 
latter  and  her  friend  would  bring  Marcus  closer  to  her 
side.  The  Empress  could  not  visit  the  Prefect,  but  she 
could  visit  his  wife,  and  without  suspicion.  Marcus 
married  to  Berenice  would  be  easier  of  access  than 
Marcus  single. 

Poppsea  was  surrounded  by  her  women  when  Bere- 
nice was  admitted  to  her  presence.  After  some  com- 
monplaces, charmingly  delivered  on  both  sides,  the 
Empress  gathered  that  her  visitor  desired  to  be  alone 
with  her,  and  so  dismissed  her  suite,  and  bade  them 
not  return  without  her  summons. 

Berenice  had  not  let  her  anger  against  Mercia  cool. 
On  the  contrary,  she  bad  fanned  it  vigorously,  and  it 
was  at  blazing  point ;  but,  to  look  at  her  handsome 
face,  an  ordinary  observer  would  have  imagined  her  to 
be  in  a  state  of  beatific  calm.  What  consummate 
actresses  are  even  ordinary  women !  What  transparent 
bunglers,  compared  to  them,  are  even  uncommon  men  in 
the  art  of  disguising  their  feelings  and  desires ! 

Berenice  was  inwardly  raging  with  fury ;  yet  out- 
170 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

wardly  the  placidity  of  a  mill-pond  was  a  turbulent 
stream  in  comparison.  Poppsea  was  not  an  ordinary 
observer,  and  instinctively  knew  that  her  friend  was 
intent  on  matters  of  great  moment — that  her  visit  was 
not  one  of  courtesy  only,  but  rather  one  of  much  im- 
portance to  both.  Poppsea,  too,  was  a  fine  mental 
fencer  and  diplomatist.  It  was  not  necessary  to  give 
Berenice  a  cue  to  begin  ;  the  matter  would  out.  She 
could  wait. 

And  so  these  two  laughed,  chatted,  and  gossipped 
upon  all  imaginable  subjects,  save  the  one  nearest  to 
both  their  hearts,  until  Berenice  asked  casually  whether 
"  it  was  true  that  another  wholesale  arrest  of  those 
wretches,  the  Christians,  had  been  made?" 

"  Indeed,  yes,"  said  Poppsea.  "  Marcus  hath  been 
most  zealous  in  the  task  assigned  him  by  the  Emperor. 
Last  night  he  surprised  and  captured  a  whole  gang  in 
the  act  of  holding  one  of  their  infamous  meetings." 

"  Is  that  possible,  Empress  ?"  asked  Berenice,  with 
a  childlike  look  of  wonderment.  "  Did  Marcus  arrest 
them,  or  was  it  some  other  ?" 

"Nay,  'twas  Marcus.  I  met  him  on  his  way  to  the 
Cestian  Grove,  and  so  intent  was  he  upon  their  cap- 
ture that  he  scarcely  could  be  stayed  to  salute  even 
me." 

"  Indeed  ?"  asked  Berenice,  with  astonished,  uplifted 
eyebrows.  "  Was  he  in  such  unwonted  haste  to  capture 
these  men — and — um — women?"  And  the  emphasis 
on  the  word  "  women"  gave  Poppsea  whole  volumes  of 
information,  which  to  the  male  listener  would  have 
afforded  nothing  but  a  blank  page. 
171 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Were  there  many  women  among  the  vermin  ?" 
quietly  asked  the  Empress. 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  say ;  but  there  certainly  was  one, 
who  seemed  a  person  of  very  great  importance — at 
least,  to  Marcus." 

«  So !     In  what  way  ?" 

"  Well,  probably  it  might  be  urged  because  of  her 
seeming  extraordinary  influence." 

"  Over  whom  ?    Her  own  sect  ?" 

"And  others,  too." 

"  What  others  ?     Surely,  none  of  our  own  class  ?" 

"  Forsooth,  yes." 

«  Whom  ?" 

"  Well,  Marcus  for  one.  At  least,  so  they  have  told 
me." 

Oh,  that  "  they"  I  What  would  this  world  be  with- 
out the  "  theys"  ?  "  They  say,"  "  they  know,"  "  they 
impute" !  What  character  is  safe — what  action  un- 
known— wbat  motive  uuperceived  by  "  they"  ?  "  They" 
are  the  lynxes  of  the  world,  and,  with  more  than  Argus 
eyes,  see  through  the  very  stone  walls,  annihilating 
space,  overleaping  all  obstacles,  penetrating  the  most 
reserved  chambers  of  men's  minds  with  an  omnipresence 
as  comprehensive  as  it  is  marvellous. 

Need  it  be  said  that  Berenice  had  already  achieved 
the  object  of  her  visit?  Poppsea's  jealousy  was  afoot, 
alert  and  keen  to  the  scent  as  a  bloodhound.  She 
knew  all  now;  Marcus  had  been  fascinated  by  some 
girl  among  these  Christian  conspirators,  and  his  wild 
hurry  on  the  previous  evening  was  to  save  her.  So 
she,  the  Empress,  was  insulted,  treated  with  less 
172 


SOME  PERPLEXITIES 

courtesy  and  ceremony  than  should  be  shown  to  the 
wife  of  a  tradesman  by  Marcus,  in  order  that  he  might 
be  in  time  to  rescue  a  despicable  creature  fit  only  for 
the  gutter  or  the  jail. 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other,  and  it  would 
be  hard  to  say  who  was  the  more  furious.  Both  were 
ready  to  consent  to  any  scheme  that  would  result  in 
Mercia's  destruction ;  and  all  this  without  one  spoken 
word.  Yerily,  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  women ! 

Poor  Mercia!  A  helpless  sparrow  in  the  clutches  of 
a  hungry  hawk  would  have  a  greater  chance  of  escape 
than  thou,  left  to  the  mercy  of  either  of  these  thy  sis- 
ters. And  what  is  thy  sin  ?  The  most  deadly  that  one 
woman  can  commit  against  another — that  of  superior 
attraction  for  a  man  beloved. 

"  Who  is  the  woman  ?"  asked  Poppaea. 

"  Her  name  is  Mercia,"  replied  Berenice. 

"  What  is  she  like  ?"  the  inevitable  question  followed. 

"  I  have  not  seen  her,  Empress." 

"But  thou  hast  heard  something.     Is  she  young?" 

"They  say  but  eighteen ;  but  she  must  be  more  than 
that." 

(Why,  Berenice  ?    Why  must  f) 

"  Dark  or  fair  ?" 

"  Dark,  Dacia  tells  me,"  answered  Berenice. 

Now,  it  is  an  approved  fact  that  women  are  always 
more  jealous  of  a  complexion  the  opposite  to  their  own. 
Had  Mercia  been  as  fair  as  Poppsea  she  would  have 
aroused  less  animosity  in  that  lady's  breast ;  it  was  one 
more  item  to  her  detriment  that  she  was  not. 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  said  the  Empress. 

173 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  He  keeps  her  in  his  palace,  it  is  said,  while  her 
companions  are  more  fitly  lodged  in  prison." 

"  He  shall  not  keep  her  there  long.  Nero  shall  know 
of  this." 

"  Exactly  my  thought  when  I  did  hear  of  it,  and  to 
myself  I  said,  '  I  will  seek  counsel  of  Poppaa,  who  will 
best  know  how  to  deal  with  her ;  but  surely  she  cannot 
be  allowed  to  remain  in  his  palace,  to  the  scandal  of  all 
Home.'  " 

Little  Berenice  would  have  recked  of  the  scandal  had 
she  not  felt  that  there  must  be  some  stronger  sentiment 
than  usual  actuating  and  guiding  Marcus'  conduct. 
Here  was  the  sting  to  both — it  looked  like  a  serious 
passion,  not  "  a  passing  whim." 

"Marcus  must _  be  taught  a  lesson;  he  has  been 
allowed  too  much  licence,"  said  the  Empress.  "He 
knows  he  is  in  our  favour,  but  he  must  not  presume 
upon  it.  As  great  as  he  have  fallen  ere  now.  Let  him 
be  careful ;  we  are  not  to  be  insulted  with  impunity ! 
This  is  too  much !  To  be  publicly  slighted  for  a  Chris- 
tian girl  is  more  than  I  feel  disposed  to  bear,  even  from 
a  Marcus.  Come,  my  Berenice,  let  us  seek  Caesar.  "We 
will  have  this  Mercia  placed  beyond  Marcus'  power  to 
reach  or  to  deal  with."  Giving  her  hand  to  Berenice, 
the  Empress  led  her  towards  Nero's  room. 

Both  had  been  bitterly  insulted  by  Marcus,  and  both 
were  intent  upon  revenging  the  affront  upon  the  inno- 
cent cause  thereof,  the  gentle  and  lovely  Mercia. 
Whither  had  she  gone  ? 

On  leaving  the  palace,  she  went  straight  to  the  gate 
of  the  prison  wherein  she  knew  the  Christians  were 

174 


SOME  PERPLEXITIES 

confined.  A  group  of  guards  were  at  the  doors,  and 
among  them  a  young  officer,  who  stopped  her,  saying — 

"  What  want  you  here,  lady  ?" 

"  Admittance  to  the  cells  of  the  Christians,"  answered 
Mercia. 

"Upon  whose  authority?  whose  permission  hast 
thou?" 

"  I  have  no  authority,"  answered  Mercia. 

"Then  thou  canst  not  pass,  lady,"  said  the  officer  re- 
spectfully, for  he,  like  all  men,  felt  the  strange  charm 
of  this  girl. 

"But  I  too  am  a  prisoner,  sir,"  pleaded  Mercia. 
"  And  my  place  is  there." 

"Prisoner?"  smiled  the  guard;  "by  Jupiter,  thou 
art  free  enough,  seemingly  1" 

"  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  to  my  friends.  If  they  are 
guilty,  so  am  I.  If  they  have  sinned  against  the  laws 
of  Eome,  so  have  I ;  for  the  offence  they  committed  I 
committed  too.  I  was  with  them  when  they  were  sur- 
prised and  taken  captive  at  the  Grove,  and  what  am  I 
that  I  should  not  suffer  even  as  they  do  ?  I  pray  thee, 
let  me  in  to  them." 

"  By  the  gods !"  roared  the  officer,  "  this  is  something 
new !  Oft  have  I  been  besought  to  let  a  prisoner  out, 
but  'tis  the  first  time  man  or  woman  has  begged  me  to 
let  them  in.  Dost  know  what  kind  of  place  this  prison 
is?" 

"  That  concerns  me  not.   I  am  young  and  strong " 

"And  exceedingly  beautiful  too,"  interjected  the 
officer,  with  an  admiring  glance.  "  And  worthy  of  a 
beautiful  nest,  my  lovely  bird.  Let  me  counsel  thee," 

175 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

and  the  officer  advanced  a  step  towards  Mercia ;  but 
she  quickly  went  nearer  to  the  soldiers,  so  that  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  speak  to  her  and  not  be  over- 
heard by  the  rest  of  the  guard. 

"Sir,"  said  Mercia,  "either  let  me  in  to  my  friends, 
or  I  go." 

"What  wouldst  thou  do  in  yonder?"  asked  the 
officer. 

"  There  are  many  wounded  and  sick  among  them  ;  I 
would  be  with  them,  to  nurse  and  comfort  them.  Ah, 
sir,  I  beseech  thee  to  grant  my  prayer.  Indeed  and 
indeed,  I  am  as  guilty  as  they.  I  can  do  no  harm.  I 
cannot  aid  them  to  escape,  and  I  promise  thee  I  will 
not  try.  I  only  desire  to  be  with  them,  and  suffer  even 
as  they  suffer." 

Her  beauty,  her  earnestness,  her  sweet,  pleading 
voice  captivated  the  young  officer,  but  what  was  he  to 
do  ?  He  had  no  power  to  arrest  without  authority,  or 
grant  permission  for  anyone  to  visit  those  already  im- 
prisoned. Yet  she  could  do  no  harm,  as  she  had  said. 
Little  would  he  have  hesitated  had  he  the  requisite 
authority,  but  that  he  had  not. 

"  It  is  hard  to  refuse  so  sweet  a  creature  anything, 
but  what  thou  dost  ask  is  beyond  my  power  to  grant," 
he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  What  is  thy  name  ?" 

"  Mercia,"  she  replied. 

"  By  Cy  therea,  a  pretty  name !  Well,  gentle  Mercia, 
get  thee  hence  to  thy  parents  ;  thou  wilt  be  safer  with 
them,  I  warrant  thee — unless,  indeed,  thy  parents  are 
with  those  thou  dost  seek  within.  Is  that  so  ?" 

"  Alas,  sir,  my  parents  are  dead !" 
I76 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

"  So !  Alone,  eh  ?"  Then  a  thought  struck  the  offi- 
cer— not  an  unnatural  one,  either — it  was  for  some 
lover's  sake  the  girl  sought  admittance ;  to  be  near  the 
man  she  loved  she  was  ready  to  sacrifice  her  own 
liberty.  "Parents  dead,  and  thou  art  alone,  eh?"  he 
said.  "Then  thou  dost  seek  some  lover  in  the  prison ! 
By  Jupiter,  he  is  a  lucky  fellow!  But  amongst  all 
these  rats  of  Christians  I  have  seen  there's  none  worthy 
of  all  that  beauty,  my  girl.  Forget  him,  and  take  up 
with  some  honest  Eoman  soldier.  There's  many  who 
would  take  his  place,  and  all  too  gladly ;  eh,  comrades  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,"  the  others  agreed,  with  brutal  laughter. 

Truly,  Mercia  had  but  little  bettered  her  state  in 
flying  from  the  palace  of  Marcus.  Still  she  pleaded  ; 
her  tender  heart  was  aching  to  be  with  the  weak  and 
wounded  among  the  prisoners,  that  she  might  tend 
their  hurts  and  comfort  them.  But  to  all  her  entreat- 
ies, jeers  and  laughter  came  as  answers.  It  could  only 
be,  as  the  officer  thought,  some  man  amongst  these 
Christians  was  the  girl's  lover.  No,  it  was  hopeless — 
she  could  not  be  admitted.  The  guards  were  for  driving 
her  away,  when  something  happened  which  unex- 
pectedly gave  her  the  boon  she  was  craving  with  so 
much  earnestness  and  intensity.  Licinius  came  out  of 
the  prison.  Instantly  he  recognised  Mercia. 

"  So !"  he  thought,  "  this  is  the  way  in  which  the 
noble  Marcus  keeps  his  word ;  this  is  the  manner  in 
which  he  holds  himself  responsible  unto  Nero  for  the 
safe  custody  of  his  prisoners."  His  brutal  face  had 
upon  it  a  grim  smile  as  he  looked  upon  Mercia.  Here 
was  news  for  Tigellinus  and  Nero.  The  girl  who  had 
12  177 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

so  infatuated  Marcus  was  free!  His  course  was  clear; 
he  would  re-arrest  her.  True,  as  sedile  only  he  had  no 
power  to  order  arrest,  but  Tigellinus  had  commanded 
that  all  who  were  caught  at  the  Grove  were  to  be  pun- 
ished, and  he  would  but  be  acting  in  accordance  with 
those  commands  if  he  re-imprisoned  this  girl.  His  mind 
was  made  up  ;  he  would  do  it. 

Advancing  towards  the  group  at  the  door,  he  asked 
roughly — 

"  What  is  the  trouble  here  ?    Who  is  this  woman  ?" 

Mercia  recognised  Licinius,  and  shrank  back  in 
alarm.  Had  he  not  tried  to  slay  her  in  the  Cestian 
Grove  ?  Did  he  not  slaughter  the  good  Titus  ?  Were 
his  hands  not  stained  with  the  blood  of  many  of  her 
friends? 

"  One  of  the  Christians,  sedile,"  answered  the  officer. 

"  What  doth  she  here?"  asked  Licinius. 

"She  craves  permission  to  be  arrested  and  placed 
beside  the  others  of  her  sect,  who  lie  within." 

"  Doth  she  indeed  ?    Let  her  have  her  desire." 

Then,  pretending  to  recognise  her  for  the  first  time, 
he  said — 

"  Ah,  now  I  remember  thee  !  Thou  art  the  girl  our 
Prefect  said  he  would  have  a  care  of.  By  Caesar,  he 
will  have  to  account  for  thy  freedom !  I  will  see  to 
thy  safe  keeping  for  the  present.  Let  her  wish  be 
granted,  officer,  and  see  that  she  have  little  chance  to 
escape  again." 

Leaving  Mercia  to  the  charge  of  the  officer,  Licinius 
strode  away,  to  find  and  impart  the  news  of  her  capture 
to  Tigellinus.  The  officer,  attended  by  a  jailer,  con- 
I78 


SOME  PERPLEXITIES 

due  ted  Mercia  through  the  hall  of  the  prison  along  a 
number  of  dark  and  narrow  passages,  lit  at  intervals 
by  slits  in  the  masonry.  Pausing  before  a  massive  iron 
door,  the  jailer  produced  a  large,  curiously  cut  key, 
with  which  he  unlocked  it ;  then,  rolling  back  the  heavy 
bolt,  the  door  was  pushed  open,  and  Mercia  walked  into 
the  general  dungeon  of  the  jail,  where  the  prisoners 
were  kept  prior  to  examination  or  trial. 

Some  forty  or  fifty  of  the  Christians  were  there, — 
men  and  women, — and  amongst  them  Stephanus,  who 
was  lying  upon  a  heap  of  straw  in  one  of  the  corners 
of  the  cell.  His  wounds  had  been  dressed,  and  he  had 
been  carefully  attended  to,  according  to  the  instructions 
given  by  Marcus ;  but  he  was  there  with  the  others, 
awaiting  the  decision  of  the  judges. 

The  brethren  received  Mercia  with  mingled  feelings 
of  joy  and  sorrow — joy  that  they  beheld  once  more  her 
whom  they  loved  and  revered  so  much ;  sorrow  that 
she  was  a  prisoner  like  themselves.  The  cell  was  a 
large  one,  the  floor  and  walls  were  of  stone,  and 
benches  of  the  same  material  were  placed  around  it. 
On  these  and  on  the  ground  the  Christians  sat  and 
reclined  in  semi-darkness,  cheering  and  comforting  each 
other. 

Lovingly  Mercia  was  greeted  by  all,  and;  like  some 
sweet  ministering  angel,  she  went  among  them,  giving 
them  strength  and  encouragement.  When  her  eyes 
became  better  accustomed  to  the  gloom  of  the  cell,  she 
perceived  Stephanus  lying  on  the  straw,  and  seeing 
that  he  was  ill  or  wounded,  she  sprang  to  his  side,  and, 
seating  herself  upon  the  ground,  lifted  his  head  into 
179 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

her  lap,  and  besought  him  to  tell  her  what  ailed 
him. 

The  child  could  only  sob ;  he  could  not  find  words  to 
tell  her  the  truth,  that  he  it  was  who  had  betrayed 
them  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies.  She  knew  that 
he  was  in  great  pain  by  the  shudder  that  went  through 
him  as  she  touched  him. 

"  What  hath  happened,  dear  Stephanus  ?"  she 
asked. 

But  Stephanus  could  only  weep  and  moan. 

"  Wilt  thou  not  tell  thy  friend  ?"  pleaded  Mercia. 

"  He  hath  been  tortured,  Mercia,"  spoke  Melos,  who 
was  among  those  imprisoned  there. 

"Tortured?  Oh,  the  poor  Stephanus!  How?" 
asked  Mercia.  "  Tell  me  how." 

"  Better  not  question  him  yet,  Mercia,"  softly  said 
Melos,  not  wishing  to  give  the  boy  the  shame  of  re- 
peating to  Mercia  the  treachery  of  which  he  had  been 
guilty.  "  The  physician  hath  but  now  left  him,  and  he 
is  weak  and  feverish  still.  He  had  better  rest,  dear 
Mercia ;  another  time  he  will  tell  thee  all." 

And  so,  for  a  while,  at  least,  they  spared  the  boy 
the  agony  of  a  confession  to  Mercia.  Divining 
something  of  the  cause  of  his  silence,  she  asked 
nothing  further,  but,  dipping  her  mantle  in  a  large 
amphora  of  water,  she  bathed  the  feverish,  aching 
brow  of  the  boy,  comforting  him  as  much  as  he  could 
be  comforted.  Her  cool,  soft  hands  upon  his  forehead 
and  face  soothed  him  presently  into  a  troubled  sleep, 
the  first  he  had  known  since  his  torture.  After  a 
while,  Mercia  gently  placed  him  upon  the  ground, 
1 80 


SOME  PERPLEXITIES 

fearing  to  waken  him,  and  went  softly  among  the 
others,  helping  and  encouraging  them  in  her  sweet, 
tender  way,  glad  to  be  of  service  to  them  in  their 
sorrow  and  pain,  glad,  too,  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
man  she  so  loved  and  feared. 

Presently  she  descried  the  woman  whose  child  the 
spy  Servilius  had  slain.  The  poor  creature  was 
crouched  motionless  on  the  floor,  her  heart  was  well- 
nigh  broken.  Her  husband  had  been  taken  from  her 
and  killed,  her  child  too  was  murdered.  She  was 
bereaved  of  all  she  loved ;  she  seemed  dazed  with 
grief.  To  her  Mercia  went,  taking  her  in  her  arms 
as  though  she  were  but  a  child,  tenderly  embracing 
her,  and  telling  her  of  the  happy  meeting  that  was  so 
soon  to  come  under  the  protecting  glory  of  Him  they 
all  served  and  loved.  Gradually  the  woman  seemed 
to  recover  consciousness  under  the  sweet  consolation 
of  Mercia's  sympathy.  Slowly  her  thoughts  were  led 
to  Him  who  had  endured  such  agony  for  her  and  her 
lost  ones,  and  as  her  vision  opened  to  the  sacred  figure 
on  the  Cross,  the  memory  of  His  patience  and  resigna- 
tion brought  a  calm  to  her  bruised  spirit,  and  she  knelt 
and  prayed  silently  for  strength  to  endure  for  His  sake. 
There  was  not  one  among  the  group  of  persecuted  ones 
in  that  dark  cell  who  did  not  feel  uplifted  and  en- 
couraged by  Mercia's  presence.  While  she  was  with 
them  light  could  not  wholly  leave  them  nor  peace 
entirely  desert  them,  and  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the 
hour  which  Marcus  had  hoped  Mercia  would  spend  in 
listening  to  his*  words  of  passion,  and  perchance  sub- 
mitting to  his  caresses,  was  given  unto  the  consoling 
181 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

of  the  wounded,  the  sick,  and  the  grief-stricken  amongst 
these  poor  captives. 

And  in  ministering  to  their  needs  Mercia  forgot  her 
own  perils  of  body  and  soul.  Not  that  she  failed  to 
realise  them,  or  know  that  in  escaping  from  Marcus 
she  had  fled  to  almost  certain  death ;  but  she  was  not 
of  a  nature  to  dwell  upon  her  own  sorrows  when 
surrounded  by  others  who  were  also  grief-stricken,  and 
her  training  had  taught  her  not  to  fear  death  for  her 
Faith's  sake,  but  to  embrace  it  joyfully,  if  by  doing  so 
she  glorified  her  Saviour.  Strange  chance  that  had 
made  this  sweet  girl,  whose  life  up  to  the  time  of  her 
parents'  death  had  been  so  calm  and  uneventful,  the 
very  centre  of  a  vortex  of  intrigue  and  passion ! 
Around  her  revolved  rage,  hate,  jealousy,  and  lust. 
Her  condition  was  indeed  desperate.  With  so  many 
powerful  foes  actively  planning  her  destruction,  there 
were  none  who  could  help  or  serve  her,  for  those  who 
had  been  her  friends  were  either  dead  or  in  prison. 

All  this  Mercia  felt  and  understood,  but  her  nobility 
of  spirit  buoyed  her  up,  and  she  rejoiced  that  it  was 
still  in  her  power  to  obey  her  Lord's  commands  to 
help  the  helpless  and  comfort  the  sick  and  sorrowful, 
while  she  gave  thanks  to  God,  who  had  delivered  her 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  man  who  had  sought  her  soul's 
destruction.  But,  even  as  she  prayed,  she  knew  that 
she  loved  this  man  with  the  whole  strength  of  her  con- 
stant nature. 

After  delivering  Mercia  into  the  care  of  the  officer 
of  the  prison-guard,  Licinius  hurried  off  to  find  Tigel- 
linus  and  inform  him  of  the  capture  of  Mercia.  Li- 
182 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

cinius  rightly  guessed  that  the  intelligence  would  be 
gratefully  received. 

He  was  admitted  to  the  presence  of  Tigellinus,  who 
was  engaged  with  a  party  of  engineers  upon  a  scheme 
of  Nero's  for  the  making  of  a  great  canal  which  was 
to  extend  from  Avernum  to  Ostia.  The  length  thereof 
was  estimated  at  160  miles,  while  the  breadth  was  to 
be  sufficient  to  enable  vessels  with  five  banks  of  oars 
to  pass  eaa  other.  These  and  other  equally  great 
schemes  Nero  had  inaugurated,  believing  the  expense 
could  be  met  either  by  the  enormous  revenues  of  his 
empire,  or  by  the  recovery  of  an  immense  treasure 
which  he  had  been  induced  to  believe  that  Queen  Dido 
had  taken  with  her  to  Africa,  after  her  flight  from 
Tyre,  and  which  he  hoped  to  unearth. 

Tigellinus,  seeing  that  his  friend  and  tool  Licinius 
had  something  of  importance  to  disclose,  dismissed  the 
council  as  roon  as  it  could  be  done  with  decency,  and 
then  turned  eagerly  to  Licinius — 

"Well,  my  Licinius,  what  is  thy  news?  Good  or 
bad,  eh  ?" 

"  Good ;  if  that  be  good  which  may  help  to  the  un- 
doing of  thine  enemy." 

"  Dost  thou  mean  Marcus  ?" 

"  Who  else  is  of  sufficient  power  or  moment  to  be 
dignified  or  flattered  by  the  name  of  enemy  unto  Tigel- 
linus ?" 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  The  girl  Mercia." 

"  Ah !  what  of  her  ?"  asked  Tigellinus,  with  wolfish 
interest. 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

"He  promised  thee  he  would  be  answerable  for  her 
safe  conduct." 

"  He  did,  at  the  Cestian  Grove." 

«  Well  he  hath  released  her." 

"  Eeleased  her  ?    Art  sure  ?" 

"  Yea,  Excellence." 

"  So,  so !"  muttered  Tigellinus,  and  a  grim  smile  of 
pleasure  crept  over  his  saturnine  features.  This  was 
good  news  indeed!  Here  was  flat  disobedience  to 
Nero's  injunctions  and  express  commands,  a  deliberate 
betrayal  of  an  official  trust,  and  an  act  of  personal 
favouritism  towards  an  enemy  of  Caesar,  for  which  he 
might  be  justly  expected  to  feel  a  deep  resentment, 
and  order  for  the  delinquent  an  exemplary  punish- 
ment. 

"  Tell  me  all  that  thou  dost  know,  my  Licinius,"  ex- 
claimed Tigellinus. 

This  Licinius  did,  embellishing  the  account  with 
many  deft  little  touches  of  invention  well  calculated  to 
enhance  the  importance  of  Marcus'  neglect  of  duty 
and  please  Tigellinus  the  more. 

"And  thou  hast  her  safe  under  lock  and  key,  my 
Licinius  ?" 

"  Ay,  in  the  prison  of  my  district." 

"  Where  the  rest  of  the  gang  captured  at  the  Bridge 
are  confined  ?" 

"  Yea,  Excellence." 

"Good!  Yet,  stay — we  must  make  no  mistake  in 
dealing  with  Marcus.  Thou  hadst  no  power  under  thy 
authority  as  sedile  to  arrest  her  ?  How  came  it  ?" 

"  Simply  enough.  The  girl  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
184 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

join  the  other  prisoners;  this  she  was  doing  at  the 
moment  I  saw  her." 

"  Good !" 

"  Moreover,  thine  own  orders "  Licinius  was  con- 
tinuing, but  Tigellinus  stopped  him,  saying—- 

"  Ah,  my  orders !  Let  them  pass ;  it  is  well  that  I 
keep  clear  of  all  appearance  of  personal  opposition  or 
animosity  towards  the  Prefect.  It  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  he  is  a  favourite  of  Csesar,  and  Nero  will 
not  be  easily  convinced  that  he  can  do  aught  evil 
against  his  state  and  sacred  person.  His  fears  for  his 
personal  safety  can  alone  do  that."  Here  Tigellinus. 
began  to  pace  the  room  in  deep  thought,  Licinius 
quietly  waiting  for  his  chief  to  speak.  Presently  he 
did  so. 

"  My  Licinius,  of  this  we  may  now  be  sure  :  Marcus 
loves  this  girl,  or  he  would  not  have  released  her. 
Still,  to  Nero  he  may  aver  that  her  release  was  but  a 
ruse  to  entrap  yet  more  of  her  companions,  so  that  we 
had  best  not  trade  upon  that  alone.  If  we  can  bring 
the  girl  to  some  dire  harm  that  will  tempt  and  lead 
Marcus  to  an  open  and  palpable  breach  of  discipline  or 
revolt  against  Caesar's  commands,  we  shall  have  him  in, 
the  hollow  of  our  hands." 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  Excellence  ?" 

"  There  is  the  torture-chamber,  my  good  Licinius,'* 
said  Tigellinus,  with  a  cruel  leer. 

"  True,  Excellence,"  leered  back  Licinius. 

"  "Women  are  more  easily  moved  by  terror  and  pain 
than  even  that  imp  of  a  boy  that  Marcus  wrested  from 
TIB.  It  will  be  an  easy  task  to  wring  from  the  girl  all 

185 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

she  knows  concerning  her  associates,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  force  her  to  confess  that,  out  of  lust  or  love  for 
her,  he — Marcus — Home's  Prefect  and  guardian  of  the 
eacred  person  of  our  august  master — hath  let  her,  an 
avowed  enemy  of  the  State  and  Caesar,  go  free.  Eh  ! 
•what  sayest  thou,  my  Licinius  ?" 

"Excellent!  excellent!"  And  the  two  friends 
laughed  sardonically  at  the  prospect  of  the  girl's  suf- 
ferings and  the  undoing  of  Marcus.  There  could  br 
but  little  danger  in  torturing  her.  She  had  been  caught 
at  the  meeting,  was  evidently  of  great  importance  to 
the  brethren,  and  must  know  much  of  this  conspiracy. 
The  torturing  of  women  at  that  time  was  no  rare 
thing,  nor  was  it  confined  entirely  to  the  Christian 
prisoners.  The  case  of  the  freedwoman,  Epicharis, 
proves  to  what  hideous  lengths  those  in  authority 
would  go  to  gain  information.  So  horrible  were  the 
•cruelties  practised  upon  her  that,  to  escape  from  them, 
she  strangled  herself.  In  some  cases  the  flesh  was  torn 
from  the  bodies  of  the  victims  with  hot  pincers,  while 
as  has  been  said,  many  of  the  innocent  and  pure  young, 
girls  of  the  Christian  faith  were  submitted  to  such  foul 
and  revolting  outrages  that  any  detailed  account  of 
them  is  impossible.  And  it  was  upon  such  an  exquisite 
creature  as  Mercia  that  these  two  men  contemplated 
inflicting  horrors  such  as  these. 

"  Come,  my  Licinius,"  said  Tigellinus,  "  let  us  to  the 
prison  ;  we  will  talk  as  we  go."  And  the  twain  set  out 
for  the  jail  into  which  Mercia  had  voluntarily  entered 
in  order  that  she  might  escape  the  dreaded  violence  of 
Marcus'  passion  for  her. 

186 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

Marcus,  in  the  meantime,  was  helplessly  raging  at 
the  futility  of  his  quest  for  her.  The  city  had  been 
scoured  in  every  direction,  but  no  news  could  be  gained 
of  her.  No  one  thought  of  inquiring  at  the  prison 
over  the  way ;  and  so  it  was  that,  while  leagues  were 
covered  in  pursuit  of  her,  Mercia  was  actually  within 
speaking  distance  of  Marcus,  who  was  striding  about 
his  room,  looking  pale  and  worn.  He  had  scarcely 
slept  for  the  twenty-four  hours,  and  his  food  had  re- 
mained untasted.  When  the  slaves  besought  him  to  eat, 
he  ordered  them  angrily  away ;  but  he  drank  freely  of 
wine,  which  served  to  heighten  both  his  rage  and  pas- 
sion. He  loved  this  girl  almost  to  the  point  of  hatred ; 
now  that  she  had  escaped  from  him  he  felt  incensed 
against  her  to  an  absolutely  ferocious  degree.  He 
who  had  been  so  sought  for,  whose  every  caress  was 
prized  by  so  many  beautiful  women  of  rank,  to  be 
scorned  by  this  girl,  who  had  risked  her  life  to  escape 
from  his  loathsome  presence !  The  thought  was  mad- 
dening to  him.  It  choked  and  smothered  all  his 
nobler  feelings,  bringing  uppermost  all  that  was  most 
brutally  degrading.  Find  her  he  must,  if  only  to 
repay  her  scorn  with  scorn!  But  whither  had  she 
fled? 

What  was  that?  A  sweet,  clear,  mellow,  silvery, 
ringing  voice,  singing  from  the  prison  yonder — 

"  O  Father,  let  Thy  loving  hand 
Guide  us  through  death's  dark  way." 

He  could  not  be  mistaken — it  was  Mercia's  voice ; 
In  an  instant  all  his  resentment  vanished  in  the  ecstasy 
I87 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

of  having  found  her  once  again.  Then  she  had  not 
fled  from  him  after  all !  She  had  gone  to  the  help  and 
comfort  of  her  suffering  friends,  he  thought ;  and  in 
that  belief  hot  tears  of  relief  and  joy  sprang  to  his 
eyes.  Rushing  to  the  entrance-hall  of  the  palace,  he 
called  upon  some  of  his  guards  to  follow  him,  and 
crossed  at  once  to  the  prison  opposite,  and,  presenting 
himself  at  its  portals,  demanded  to  be  admitted  to  the 
cell  where  the  Christians  were  confined.  Knowing  his 
supreme  authority,  the  keeper  of  the  jail  respectfully 
conducted  him  to  the  dungeon. 

It  was  with  a  strange  tremor  at  his  heart  that  Marcus 
passed  through  the  opened  door  and  saw  again  the- 
beautiful  girl  who  had  so  enthralled  him.  She  was 
upon  her  knees,  facing  the  little  light  that  struggled 
through  the  narrow  embrasure  in  the  massive  walls, 
her  hands  clasped,  her  eyes  upturned,  pouring  forth  in 
a  stream  of  rich  melody,  with  no  more  effort  than  a 
bird  makes  in  full  song,  the  hymn  of  supplication — 

"  O  Father,  let  Thy  loving  hand 
Guide  us  through  death's  dark  way." 

And  again  he  felt  that  thrill  of  awe,  respect,  and 
wonderment  which  had  so  moved  him  at  the  death  of 
Favius.  The  feeling  was  indescribable.  It  was  as 
though  some  unseen,  unknown  spiritual  power  swept 
through  his  very  soul. 

Mercia  ceased  singing,  and  turned,  impelled  by  the 
magnetism  of  Marcus'  presence,  to  find  herself  face 
to  face  again  with  him  whom  she  so  loved  and  feared. 
Gently,  but  firmly,  he  bade  her  accompany  him. 
1 88 


SOME   PERPLEXITIES 

"  I  pray  thee,  let  me  stay  with  these  my  brethren," 
pleaded  Mercia. 

"That  may  not  be,  lady,"  quietly  said  Marcus. 
"  Thou  must  hence  with  me." 

What  purpose  could  be  served  by  refusal?  She 
knew  that  she  could  not  resist  the  force  he  would  em- 
ploy to  compel  her  to  obey  him,  so  she  turned  to  her 
friends,  who  were  regarding  her  with  tearful  sympathy, 
and  said — 

"  Be  not  afraid,  oh,  my  people !  He  will  not  suffer 
harm  to  come  to  me,  and,  though  we  may  not  meet 
again  here,  in  this  land  of  pain  and  persecution,  yet 
there  are  many  mansions  in  our  Father's  house,  and 
there  we  shall  be  reunited — we,  who  have  taken  up  the 
Cross  to  follow  Him  whom  we  do  love.  Let  not  your 
hearts  fail  you,  though  death's  dark  waters  threaten 
to  overwhelm  you,  for  hath  not  He  promised  that 
'  whosoever  will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it,  but  whoso- 
ever will  lose  his  life  for  My  sake,  the  same  shall  save 
it.  For  what  is  a  man  advantaged  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul — and  be  utterly 
cast  away  ?'  Farewell,  dear  brethren,"  she  murmured 
softly  to  her  comrades.  Then,  turning  to  Marcus,  who 
stood  silent  and  abashed,  she  said,  "  Sir,  I  am  ready." 

Marcus  felt  his  face  and  brow  flush  with  shame  as 
this  calm,  dignified  woman  passed  by  him  from  the 
dungeon  with  head  erect  and  eyes  uplifted,  eyes  that 
did  not  deign  to  notice  him  even,  with  a  single  glance. 
Quietly  she  followed  the  guards  back  to  the  palace  of 
Marcus,  to  be  this  time  locked  in  a  room  from  which 
there  could  be  no  escape. 

189 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

When  Tigellinus  and  Licinius  arrived  at  the  prison, 
full  of  their  schemes  for  Mercia's  torture,  it  was  but  to 
learn  that  she  had  again  been  given  up  to  the  keeping 
of  Marcus. 

At  first  disposed  to  rage  at  this  discovery,  they  saw, 
upon  reflection,  that  this  second  rescue  of  Mercia  from 
their  custody  was  another  weapon  in  their  hands  for 
the  assault  they  intended  to  make  upon  Marcus  before 
Csesar;  and,  consoling  themselves  with  this  thought, 
Tigellinus  went  with  Licinius  to  request  audience  of 
the  Emperor. 


190 


CHAPTER   XIV 

POPPJEA   WINS 

WHEN  Tigellinus  and  Licinius  arrived  at  the  palace 
of  Nero,  they  were  requested  to  wait  in  the  audience- 
chamber.  A  crowd  of  courtiers  and  officers  were 
already  in  attendance,  who  fawned  obsequiously  upon 
the  favoured  Tigellinus,  and  greeted  even  the  aedile 
with  courtesy,  because  of  his  propinquity  to  his  more 
powerful  friend. 

An  officer  entered  and,  in  a  loud  voice,  said — 

"  His  Sacred  Majesty  the  Emperor  will  give  audience 
here  at  once." 

All  those  assembled  bowed  low  at  the  mention  of  the 
Emperor's  name,  and  Tigellinus  turned  to  his  friend 
and  said — 

"  If  we  do  but  win  the  Emperor,  the  sun  of  Marcus 
will  quickly  set." 

"Would  it  were  quenched  in  everlasting  midnight!" 
replied  Licinius.  "  His  arrogance  hath  long  been  past 
endurance." 

Now  great  shouts  were  heard  of  "  Ave,  Caesar !" 
"  Hail,  all  hail !"  "  The  mighty  Nero !"  "  Our  god-like 
Emperor !" 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  volume  of  sound  swelled,  and 
first  there  entered  a  file  of  Ethiopian  guards,  giant-like 
in  size  and  strength,  clad  in  parti-coloured  skirts  reach- 
191 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

ing  from  the  waist  to  within  an  inch  of  the  knee,  wear- 
ing slung  across  their  bare  breasts  and  shoulders  the 
skins  of  huge  leopards  (the  heads  thereof  being  brought 
over  their  own  foreheads,  thus  lending  them  an  appear- 
ance of  savage  ferocity) ;  with  brawny  arms  and  legs 
unclothed ;  carrying  in  their  right  hands  long  spears 
with  heads  of  polished  bronze,  and  bearing  over  their 
left  arms  stout  shields  of  the  tanned  hides  of  lions. 
These  guards  were  followed  by  splendidly  dressed 
heralds,  with  long  trumpets  of  gold,  upon  which  they 
blew  a  rude  blare  of  harmonised  chords,  as  a  signal  of 
the  approach  of  Nero.  After  them  came  a  crowd  of 
nobles,  walking  backwards,  with  bowed  heads,  grovel- 
ling almost  to  the  ground  in  adoration  of  the  bloated, 
sensual  being  whom  they  professed  to  worship — that 
wonder  of  distorted  genius,  Nero,  the  Roman  Emperor. 
He  wa$  leaning  upon  the  necks  of  two  feminine-looking 
boys  of  some  fourteen  years  of  age;  they  were  garbed 
in  short  white  tunics,  their  golden  hair  bound  with 
fillets  of  gold ;  their  legs  were  bare  to  the  sandals,  and 
they  minced  and  smirked  with  all  the  airs  and  graces 
of  girlhood.  To  these  favourites  of  the  detestable  brute 
the  courtiers  cringed  and  crawled  with  a  sycophancy 
as  transparent  as  it  was  degrading. 

Nero  was  gorgeously  dressed,  but  there  was  a  sug- 
gestion of  effeminacy  in  his  attire,  the  outcome  of 
deliberate  design,  which  robbed  it  of  all  dignity.  The 
under  dress  was  soft,  cream-coloured  silk,  richly  em- 
broidered with  gold,  scarcely  reaching  to  the  knee. 
The  toga  was  of  Tyrian  purple,  studded  with  amethysts 
and  emeralds.  Of  the  amethyst  and  Tyrian  purple 
192 


POPP^EA  WINS 

he  was  extremely  fond ;  indeed,  so  anxious  was  he  to 
make  them  peculiar  and  personal  to  himself  that  he 
rigorously  forbade  the  use  of  them  by  any  of  his 
subjects.  It  was  said  that,  as  he  was  singing  in  the 
theatre,  observing  a  lady  of  rank  among  the  audience 
dressed  in  the  colour  he  had  prohibited,  he  stopped 
the  performance  until  she  was  dragged  from  her  seat. 
He  afterwards  gave  orders  that  she  was  to  be  stripped 
not  only  of  her  garments,  but  of  her  property,  which 
he  appropriated.  On  another  occasion,  he  privately 
sent  a  spy  to  sell  a  few  ounces  of  the  forbidden  colours 
upon  the  day  of  the  Nundinae,  and  then  shut  up  all  the 
merchants'  shops,  on  the  pretext  that  his  edict  had 
been  violated. 

As  Nero  met  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head 
the  salutations  of  the  courtiers  who,  on  their  knees, 
awaited  him,  his  eyes  fell  upon  Tigellinus  and  Licinius, 
who  were  at  that  moment  exchanging  a  few  words  in 
an  undertone.  Sharply,  and  half  in  jest  and  half  in 
earnest,  he  said — 

"Ah,  Tigellinus,  Licinius,  ye  are  whispering  1  What 
is  it — eh  ?  What  treason's  toward — eh  ?"  And  his 
quick,  furtive,  frightened  gaze  shifted  uneasily  from 
one  to  the  other,  while  his  heavy,  double  chin  shook 
with  a  nervous  dread. 

"  Treason  ?  Nay,  Caesar,"  replied  Tigellinus,  on  his 
knees,  with  lowered  head ;  "  I  did  but  say  that,  had 
thy  august  mother  not  made  thee  Emperor  of  Rome, 
thy  god-like  voice  had  given  thee  empire  o'er  the 
world." 

At  the  mention  of  the  mother  whom  he  had  mur- 
'3  193 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

dered  Nero  started  and  slightly  shivered,  but  his  vanity 
was  tickled  at  the  flattery  so  lavishly  bestowed  upon 
his  voice,  and  he  said — 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes !  I  can  sing !  Even  my  detractors 
admit  that.  An  artist — eh  ?" 

"  In  sooth,  yes.  Apollo  must  lay  aside  his  lyre  when 
Nero  sings,"  was  the  fulsome  answer. 

Gross  as  was  this  exaggeration,  it  was  not  too  much 
for  Nero,  who  flung  himself  into  a  grotesque  attitude, 
which  he  intended  to  be  one  of  extreme  grace,  and  ex- 
claimed— 

"  Apollo !  Ah,  yes !  A  statue  of  myself  in  gold — 
all  gold,  as  Apollo !  I'll  have  it  done.  See  to  it,  Tigel- 
linus."  Then  his  mind  wandered  quickly  off  in  an  en- 
tirely new  direction,  and  he  said  venomously — 

"  Tigellinus,  that  wife  of  Garamantes  hath  insulted 
our  Empress,  our  beloved  Poppsea." 

"  Hath  she  dared  ?"  asked  Tigellinus,  with  assumed 
horror,  while  all  the  court  gazed  into  each  others'  faces 
with  pretended  astonishment. 

"Kefused  to  attend  her  feast — called  it  an  orgie," 
continued  Nero.  "Her  delicate  health  forbade  her 
attendance.  We'll  physic  her  delicacy!  See  that 
Garamantes  is  warned  that  his  absence  from  this 
world  can  alone  atone  for  his  wife's  absence  from 
Poppsea's  feast.  Request  that  he  open  his  veins  to- 
night ;  if  he  is  alive  when  dawns  to-morrow's  sun,  not 
he  alone,  but  he  and  all  his  brood  shall  die  ere  it  doth 
set.  See  to  it,  Tigellinus,  see  to  it." 

A  slight  shiver  ran  through  the  cowardly  crowd  of 
courtiers  at  this  command.  Such  orders  had  been 
194 


POPP^EA  WINS 

only  too  rife  of  late,  and  no  man  knew  when,  under 
some  equally  flimsy  pretext,  his  own  time  might  not 
come  to  receive  this  hint  to  die.  Even  Tigellinus  felt 
a  slight  sensation  of  dread  as  he  answered — 

"  I  will,  great  Csesar,  and  gladly.  It  is  but  justice. 
How  could  she  dare  so  to  insult  thy  omnipotence?" 

Nero  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  what  would,  were 
it  not  for  the  tragedy  of  the  circumstance,  have  heen  a 
comical  gesture,  and  said — 

"It  is  madness — veritable  madness!  But,  Tigel- 
linus, we'll  make  his  wife  a  widow — eh  ?  And  warn 
her  to  give  a  strict  account  of  all  her  husband's  wealth, 
and  render  a  full  half  to  Csesar,  or,  by  Pluto,  she  shall 
lose  the  whole,  and  her  brats  with  it.  See  to  it,  Tigel- 
linus, see  to  it." 

"  I  will,  mighty  Caesar,"  answered  Tigellinus,  while 
the  crowd  mutely  pantomimed  their  approval  of  the 
horrible  orders  'Nero  had  so  calmly  issued.  Then, 
with  another  quick  turn  of  his  abnormally  active 
brain,  he  dismissed  entirely  the  subject  of  this  latest 
murder,  and  asked,  with  a  smile  of  egregious  self-com- 
placency,— 

"  And  how  liked  you  that  last  epic  of  mine— eh?  It 
is  good — eh  ?  Strong " 

The  answer  came  deftly  from  the  lips  of  Tigellinus, 
ever  ready  to  feed,  if  never  able  to  satisfy,  his  mon- 
strous egotism. 

"  Strong  ?  'Tis  mighty,  Csesar !  Thou  art  indeed  a 
marvel !  Soldier — poet — actor — singer — athlete — Em- 
peror— a  god  among  gods !"  And  every  craven  among 
the  crowd  re-echoed  the  profanity. 

195 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

For  once  Nero  was  mildly  pleased  at  their  adulation, 
and  smiled  approvingly  as  he  said  to  Tigellinus — 

"  Well  said !  Well  expressed — very  well !  But  pos- 
terity alone  can  do  me  justice ;  my  contemporaries  are 
all  too  jealous — eh  ?  That  is  a  fine  verse — eh  ?  that  one 
commencing — 

"And  Jove's  great  thunder,  rattling  around  the  vast,  empyrean 
vault,  spoke  of  a  god's  great  wrath  in  mighty  tones." 

And  the  vain-glorious  tyrant  declaimed  his  turgid 
stuff  with  all  the  exaggeration  of  the  amphitheatre, 
with  a  voice  hoarse  with  bellowing  and  dissipation ; 
and  the  chorus  of  flatterers  applauded  with  wild 
enthusiasm,  a  compliment  which  Nero  acknowledged 
with  a  bow  as  theatrical  as  the  effort  that  had  pro- 
voked it. 

And  thus  all  State  business  stood  still,  while  Eome's 
mighty  Emperor  played  the  fool.  There  were  among 
the  crowd  ministers  of  state,  waiting  to  receive  com- 
mands ;  rulers  of  provinces,  with  details  of  revenues 
and  general  government ;  heads  of  departments,  civil 
and  military,  awaiting  orders  and  instructions;  yet 
none  dared  to  hint  their  business  until  desired  by  Nero 
to  do  so. 

Now  his  mind  wandered  off  at  a  tangent  to  the  Cir- 
cus, and  he  said  abruptly — 

"  We  want  new  games  in  the  Circus.  I  weary  of  the 
old  eternal  round  of  trained  gladiator  against  gladia- 
tor. We  must  devise  something  fresh — eh?  eh? 
What  shall  it  be  ?" 

I96 


POPP^A  WINS 

Here  Philodemus  was  emboldened  to  ask — 

"  Wilt  thou  race  at  the  festival,  great  Caesar  ?" 

"  Eace  ?"  said  Caesar,  moving  with  extreme  difficulty. 
"  I  have  not  yet  decided.  But  even  if  I  race  or  sing 
or  act  not  myself,  we'll  yet  have  rare  sport,  I  promise 
thee.  Ah !  now  I  bethink  me,  what  of  this  Christian 
conspiracy — eh  ?" 

This  was  an  opening  for  Tigellinus  that  he  had  scarce 
dared  hope  for.  Here  was  the  chance  to  approach  the 
subject  which  was  the  main  purpose  of  his  coming 
hither !  And  he  replied,  with  an  air  of  horror, — 

"Alas,  mighty  Caesar,  the  vermin  still  plot  against 
thy  sacred  life " 

Nero  shook  with  terror,  and  blanched  to  the  lips  as 
he  spluttered  forth — 

"  What — what — sayest  thou — eh  ?  Thou  knowest 
this,  and  yet  two  of  the  reptiles  are  left  alive  to  con- 
spire !  What  doth  it  mean — eh  ?  Is  Caesar's  life  value- 
less ?  Is  such  an  Emperor,  such  an  artist  to  perish — 
eh?  Answer,  answer!"  he  roared,  his  eyes  blazing 
with  anger  and  terror. 

Almost  as  terrified  himself,  Tigellinus  said— 

"  Licinius  and  thy  servant  have  done  all  that  was  in 
their  power,  but " 

"But  what — what?"  asked  Nero.  "Our  sacred 
person  in  danger  and  our  orders  not  obeyed !  Who 
dares  hesitate  when  Caesar  commands?"  And  here, 
for  a  moment,  he  towered  above  the  kneeling,  cowering 
crowd  with  all  the  grandeur  of  real  majesty.  For  this 
buffoon  could,  when  roused,  be  at  times  terrible  in  his 
wrath. 

197 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  "Who  is  to  blame  ?"  lie  asked,  as  no  one  had  dared 
to  speak. 

"  Not  thy  devoted  servant  Tigellinus,"  said  that  per- 
son, grovelling  on  the  mosaic  pavement  at  Nero's  feet 
and  kissing  the  hem  of  his  toga. 

"  Who,  then  ?  What  are  the  sediles  doing  ?  Where 
are  the  spies — eh  ?" 

"  Indeed,  neither  the  sediles  nor  their  officers  are  at 
fault,  mighty  Emperor;  but  if,  when  they  have  per- 
formed their  duty,  their  work  is  undone,  their  authority 
resisted,  their  commands  set  at  naught,  what  are  they 
to  do?"  said  Tigellinus,  with  a  crafty  simulation  of 
helpless  indignation. 

"Whom  dost  thou  mean?  Who  hath  done  these 
things  ?"  asked  Nero  furiously. 

"  Nay,  Emperor,  ask  me  not.  I  would  rather  not 
betray " 

"Hal  Then  Caesar's  life  must  be  in  peril  because 
thou  wouldst  rather  not  betray  some  cowardly  asso- 
ciate ?  Thou  wouldst  betray  me— eh  ?  Who  is  it  ?  I 
command  thee !" 

"  Since  thou  dost  command,  thy  servant  must  obey. 
Thy  Prefect,  Marcus " 

Nero  hastily  interrupted  Tigellinus,  crying — 

"  Marcus  ?  No,  no  1  not  Marcus !  Have  a  care  ! 
If  thou  dost  belie  our  Marcus,  the  best  officer  we 
have " 

"Licinius  knows  I  speak  the  truth,"  persisted  Tigel- 
linus, mutely  appealing  to  his  friend.  "  Marcus  it  was 
who  stayed  my  hand  when,  for  the  sake  of  thy  sacred 
life,  I  put  one  of  these  Christians — a  boy — to  the  tor- 
198 


POPP^A  WINS 

ture,  to  force  him  to  reveal  the  meeting-place  of  the 
conspirators ;  and  a  girl  who  is  one  of  the  most  trusted 
among  them  was  taken  out  of  our  hands  by  him  and 
released.  Yet  again  did  we  arrest  her,  and  but  an  hour 
ago  thy  Prefect,  charged  by  thee  with  the  safe  keeping 
of  these  wretches,  did  again  set  her  free.  Marcus,  too, 

it  was  who,  regardless  of  thy  safety,  did "  And 

here  the  glib  tongue  of  Tigellinus  was  silenced,  for  the 
Empress  had  quietly  entered  with  Berenice,  and  was 
listening,  unobserved  by  Caesar,  to  this  accusation. 
Poppsea's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Tigellinus  with  an  ex- 
pression of  such  menace  that  he  saw  he  had  gone  too 
far  in  his  denunciation  of  Marcus  for  her  approval. 
He  stammered  and  hesitated,  staring  in  confusion  at 
the  Empress.  Nero,  following  the  direction  of  his  gaze, 
beheld  Poppsea,  and,  with  a  hoarse  cry  of  relief,  stag- 
gered into  her  arms.  The  slightest  hint  of  a  design 
upon  his  life  was  sufficient  to  spur  him  into  the  wildest 
frenzy  of  fear  and  anger,  in  the  throes  of  which  he 
would  scatter  half-inarticulate  commands  for  the  whole- 
Bale  murder  of  all  who  fell  under  his  suspicion.  The 
mere  thought  that  Marcus  could  be  guilty  of  neglecting 
any  possible  precautions  seemed  to  Nero  monstrous, 
and  he  might  instantly  have  been  moved  to  some  stern, 
if  not  disastrous,  measures  against  him  but  for  the  tact 
and  courage  of  the  Empress. 

"  Ah,  my  Poppaea,"  he  murmured,  "  thou  hast  come 
in  time.  Here's  treason,  foul  treason,  towards  our 
sacred  selves." 

"  Treason  ?"  questioned  Poppsaa.  "  Who  says  this  ?" 
Her  gaze  was  fixed  upon  Tigellinus  with  an  expression 
199 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

of  threatening  wrath  that  somewhat  disconcerted  the 
wily  Councillor. 

"  Tigellinus.     He  hath  accused  Marcus " 

"  Of  treason?"  asked  the  Empress,  and  she  dwelt  on 
the  word  with  such  scornful  contempt  of  the  possibility 
of  such  faithlessness  on  the  part  of  the  Prefect  that 
Tigellinus  made  an  effort  to  remove,  to  a  certain  extent, 
the  impression  which  his  words,  and  still  more  subtle 
insinuations,  had  left  upon  Caesar's  mind.  Stammer- 
ingly  he  explained — 

"  Treason !  Nay,  Emperor,  not  exactly  that — 
but " 

"  But  what— eh  ?"  fiercely  demanded  Nero.  "  What 
else  than  treason  to  Caesar  is  it  if  he  protects  those  who 
scheme  against  Caesar's  life  ?" 

"  There  has  been  some  exaggeration  here,"  said  Pop- 
pasa  calmly,  gazing  fixedly  at  Tigellinus.  "  I  know  the 
whole  story,  Caesar.  Berenice  hath  confided  it  to  me, 
and  I  was  even  now  seeking  thee  to  ask  for  thy  au- 
thority to  set  the  matter  right.  Possibly,  zeal  for  thy 
safety" — and  a  cold,  cruel  smile  of  contempt  played 
momentarily  round  her  lips — "  hath  induced  your 
faithful  servant  to  overestimate  the  importance  of 
Marcus'  error." 

"What  is  it,  then— eh?  What  hath  he  done?" 
asked  Nero,  his  wild  suspicions  not  yet  allayed. 

"  Marcus  is  a  man,  and,  lacking  thy  constancy,  great 
Caesar,  is  too  easily  caught  by  a  pretty  face."  And  she 
placed  her  arms  around  Caesar's  neck,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  such  intense  love  and  trustfulness  in  his  loyalty 
to  her  that  he  was  almost  led  to  believe  himself  the 
200 


POPP^A  WINS 

model  of  marital  faith  that  her  words  were  intended  to 
imply.  "  Of  all  these  hordes  of  Christians  that  we 
hear  of,  he  hath  spared  but  one — and  that  one  a  mere 
girl,  who,  for  the  moment,  hath  caught  his  wayward 
fancy." 

"Is  that  all?  Only  one  girl — eh?"  gasped  Nero, 
with  intense  relief. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  any  here  can  name  another. 
How  say  you,  Tigellinus  ?"  The  question  came  from 
Poppsea  more  in  the  form  of  a  threat  and  command, 
and  as  such  Tigellinus  understood  it,  and  hastily  he 
replied — 

"  No,  Emperor,  no." 

"  Only  one  girl !  Oh,  that  matters  but  little.  A 

girl — but  even  a  girl "  And  again  Nero  looked 

fearfully  and  furtively  around,  as  if  searching  for 
evidence  of  this  new  peril. 

"  May  be  dangerous.  And  so  it  were  wise  in  thee, 
my  love,  to  give  power  to  Tigellinus  to  take  this  girl 
out  of  the  hands  of  Marcus,  and  leave  thee  to  deal 
with  her  thyself,"  urged  Poppaea,  cunningly  achieving 
the  task  she  had  set  herself.  Marcus  was  not  to  be 
punished,  but  Mercia  was  to  be  taken  from  him  and 
placed  in  her  hands,  to  be  done  with  as,  in  her  judg- 
ment, might  seem  best.  For  was  not  her  will  Caesar's  ? 

Gladly  did  Nero  acquiesce  in  this  arrangement,  and 
he  pressed  Poppaea's  hand  with  damp  and  trembling 
fingers  as  he  answered — 

"  Yes,  yes ;  of  course.  Deal  with  her  myself.  Thou 
shalt  have  power.  Accursed  be  the  whole  race  of  these 
murderous  Christians  I  Seek  our  sacred  lives  ?  I'll 
2OI 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

throw  them  to  the  beasts !  I'll  dress  them  in  skins  of 
wolves  and  set  the  bloodhounds  on  them  !  Ha  !  That 
•will  be  sport !  I'll  soak  them  in  oil  and  tallow,  as  I  did 
before,  and  set  them  blazing !  I'll  light  all  Eome  with 
them  !"  Nero  looked  more  devil  than  man ;  his  face 
was  distorted  with  passion,  his  eyes  glaring  with  insane 
ferocity;  foam  flecked  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
his  whole  body  quivered  in  the  grip  of  the  fury  which 
possessed  him,  while  the  skin  of  his  forehead  worked 
up  and  down  with  the  flexibility  of  that  of  an  enraged 
monkey.  Even  Poppsea,  used  as  she  was  to  his  parox- 
ysms of  fury,  involuntarily  shrank  from  him,  while  the 
parasites  who  watched  him  shivered  with  apprehension. 
He  had  utterly  forgotten  the  business  of  the  day  in  his 
rage  and  terror. 

With  a  wave  of  the  hand  he  dismissed  the  whole 
Court,  save  only  Tigellinus,  to  whom  he  cried — 

"Tigellinus,  come  thou  with  me.  I  will  give  thee 
power  to  arrest  this  girl.  Plot  against  Caesar's  life  ? 
Look  to  it  that  not  these  Christians  alone,  but  all  who 
trade  or  traffic  with  them,  or  house  or  countenance 
them,  or  hold  converse  with  them,  be  punished  too. 
Double  the  guards  round  my  palace,  good  Tigellinus. 
Search  every  house  suspected.  Show  no  mercy.  Let 
Fenius  Eufus  organise  a  troop  of  German  horse  to  ride 
from  street  to  street  and  arrest  all  who  are  suspected 
of  harbouring  these  vile  regicides.  He  is  a  good  man, 
our  Fenius ;  he  will  show  no  mercy.  Wretches !  Have 
they  forgotten  that  Nero  is  immortal,  and  that  all  who 
attempt  to  harm  his  sacred  person  are  doomed  to  death 
by  the  wrath  of  the  gods  themselves  ?  Come,  they 
202 


POPP^EA  WINS 

have  yet  to  learn  my  power,  my  Tigellinus.  I — I — 

I "  But  speech  failed  the  imperial  craven,  and  he 

staggered  away,  muttering,  mouthing,  shivering  and 
inarticulate,  his  villainous  Councillor  following. 

Poppsea  paid  but  little  apparent  attention  to  Nero's 
insane  ravings,  but  she  felt  deeply  the  danger  to  which 
all  who  came  under  his  notice  were  constantly  exposed ; 
perhaps  some  presentiment  of  her  own  fate  over- 
shadowed her.  The  time  was  not  so  far  distant  when 
her  influence  over  the  mad  tyrant  was  to  decline ;  when 
she  was  to  plead  in  vain  for  mercy,  and  meet  her  death 
by  his  brutality.  But,  meantime,  it  was  for  her  to 
hide  his  weaknesses  from  the  people,  to  magnify  his 
power  and  genius ;  for  in  his  greatness  she  flourished 
and  thrived. 

Turning  to  Berenice,  who  stood,  pale  and  trembling, 
affrighted  at  Nero's  brutal  violence,  Poppsea  reassur- 
ingly placed  her  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  her  friend, 
saying — 

"  I  have  kept  my  word,  and  thou  hast  thy  desire. 
This  Christian  girl  shall  trouble  thee  no  more." 

Berenice  was  now  fearful  for  the  safety  of  Marcus. 
She  saw  how  narrow  was  the  plank  on  which  he  stood 
in  Nero's  favour,  how  insecure  his  position  in  the  good- 
will of  the  fickle  tyrant,  and  she  began  almost  to  regret 
the  haste  with  which  she  had  sought  for  Poppsea's  aid. 
Should  this  whirlwind  of  hate  and  anger  shift  in  the 
direction  of  Marcus,  his  life  was  not  worth  an  obolus. 
It  hung  by  the  frail  thread  of  Nero's  whims  and 
temper. 

With  these  thoughts  crowding  in  upon  her  mind  her 
203 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

thanks  were  but  stammering  and  half-hearted.     Kneel- 
ing, she  answered  Poppsea,  saying — 

"  I  thank  thee,  Empress,  but— but " 

"  What  now  ?    Dost  thou  regret  ?" 

"  Not  for  this  wretched  girl,  but  for  Marcus.  Should 
any  evil  come  to  him  through  fault  of  mine  or " 

"  Or  Caesar's  anger  ?  Have  no  fear,  my  friend  ;  no 
harm  shall  come  to  Marcus  through  Caesar.  I  will  pro- 
tect him  from  Nero,  but  I  cannot  always  be  on  the 
watch  to  safeguard  him  from  others.  Tigellinus  is  cun- 
ning, and,  hating  Marcus  as  he  does,  will  spare  neither 
gold  nor  labour  to  bring  about  his  ruin.  What  I  know, 
I  can  provide  for,  but  I  must  be  forewarned ;  so  keep 
me  well  informed  of  all  that  concerns  Marcus.  He 
must  be  cautious  too." 

Berenice,  whose  anger  had  subsided,  was  now  all  fear 
and  apprehension.  Her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears; 
she  could  scarce  restrain  her  sobs ;  the  clouds  of  rage 
and  hate  were  dissolving  in  this  rain  of  dread  and  pit}-. 
Poppsea  took  her  by  the  hand,  saying,  half  smilingly, 
half  sootbingly, — 

"Poor  Berenice!  Thou  art  already  sorry  for  thy 
eagerness  for  revenge.  There,  take  courage  !  Marcus 
shall  not  be  harmed.  The  girl  shall  be  taken  from 
him,  and  he  will  forget  her  soon  enough  when  once  she 
is  out  of  his  sight.  Thou  shalt  have  thy  heart's  dearest 
wishes  gratified.  Marcus  dare  not  disobey  Caesar's 
commands,  and  Csesar  shall  command  that  he  wed 
thee." 

"  How  can  I  thank  thee  enough,  dear  Empress  ?" 
softly  exclaimed  Berenice. 

204 


POPP^EA  WINS 

"  Do  not  thank  me  at  all — at  least,  until  thou  hast 
tried  Marcus  as  a  husband.  It  is  best  to  wait.  Now, 
what  I  am  about  to  do  must  seem  a  blessing ;  it  may 
prove  a  curse.  Thy  lover  now  seems  all  that  thou  de- 
sirest;  but  wait,  my  Berenice,  wait!  "We  poor,  weak 
women  never  know  these  men  until  we  have  married 
them."  And,  with  a  look  in  which  a  rallying  humour 
was  not  altogether  unmixed  with  regret  for  her  own 
precarious  position  with  her  husband,  Poppsea  led  her 
friend  to  her  own  apartments  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
palace. 


205 


CHAPTER   XV 

ANCAKIA 

THIS  was  the  day  for  which  Marcus  had  arranged 
the  supper  at  his  palace,  to  which,  before  he  had  met 
Mercia,  he  had  invited  his  boon-companions  and  ac- 
quaintances. Glabrio  was  to  be  there;  so,  too,  were 
Philodemus  and  many  others  of  the  reckless  young 
patricians,  all  ever  eager  to  share  with  Marcus  his 
banquets  or  adventures.  Marcus  had  spoken  truly 
when  he  told  Berenice  that  no  ladies  would  be  present 
at  this  feast.  The  women  invited  to  minister  to  the 
delectation  of  his  male  guests  were  the  most  beautiful 
and  amusing  among  the  courtesans  of  Eome.  First 
in  favour  with  the  patrician  youths  was  a  woman 
named  Ancaria,  a  magnificent  creature.  Superbly 
moulded  in  form  and  feature,  cunning,  clever,  passion- 
ate, gifted  with  an  exquisite  voice,  she  had  become  im- 
mensely popular  as  a  singer  at  the  feasts  given  by  the 
rich  of  the  city,  who  paid  her  almost  fabulous  prices 
for  her  services.  Her  songs  and  odes  were  not  such 
as  would  be  chosen  for  the  edification  of  the  young. 
Love,  and  the  passion  which  served  as  such  among  the 
profligate,  were  the  themes  of  her  verses,  and  she  pang 
them  with  an  abandonment,  coupled  with  a  dramatic 
vivid  pantomime  that  proved  to  those  who  composed 
her  audience  exciting  in  the  highest — or  lowest — de- 
gree. Her  face  was  finely  shaped,  the  lips  suggesting 
206 


ANCARIA 

the  bacchante  that  she  was ;  the  eyes,  of  dusky  bronze, 
large,  lustrous,  now  half-closed  with  sensuous  languor, 
anon  blazing  with  passion,  were  of  the  species  fitly 
named  "speaking."  They  spoke  indeed,  and  spoke 
whole  volumes,  though  it  must  be  confessed  the  scope 
of  the  matter  was  confined  to  what  was  frankest  and 
coarsest  in  her  vigorous  nature.  She  could  be  seductive 
as  Circe  herself  when  she  desired,  or  when  it  paid  her 
to  appear  so,  but  a  perfect  fury  when  aroused  to  anger  ; 
and,  in  truth,  it  needed  but  a  very  tiny  spark  with  her 
to  cause  a  portentous  and  startling  conflagration.  No 
man  had  dared  to  break  the  chains  which  she  had 
wound  about  him  until  she  gave  the  signal,  and  seldom 
did  she  give  that  before  the  ruin  of  her  captive  was 
complete.  No  man  could  flatter  himself  that  he  had 
ever  won  her  affection,  save,  perhaps,  her  present 
patron,  Marcus.  Whatever  was  possible  for  her  de- 
based nature  to  feel  in  the  way  of  love  she  felt  for  him. 
He,  on  his  part,  was  lazily  amused  by  her  vagaries  and 
her  talents,  and  mildly  fascinated  by  the  physical  glory 
of  her  person.  This  was  the  woman  who  was  the 
chief  guest  as  well  as  the  principal  entertainer  at  the 
feast  that  night. 

Marcus,  under  the  stress  of  excitement,  roused  by 
the  stirring  adventures  of  the  past  two  days,  had  partly 
forgotten  his  banquet ;  but  his  household  was  too  well 
managed  and  controlled  for  his  absence  of  mind  to 
affect  the  necessary  extensive  preparations,  which  went 
forward  as  smoothly  as  though  he  superintended  them 
himself.  When  he  remembered  that  he  had  to  meet 
Ancaria  and  her  companions  that  night,  he  was  angry 
207 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

with  himself  for  having  invited  them  to  come.  It  was 
too  late  to  postpone  the  supper,  and,  even  if  it  were 
not,  he  had  no  reasonable  grounds  for  doing  so.  He 
would,  at  least,  see  Mercia  once  again  before  his  guests 
arrived.  From  that  reflection  he  drew  some  consola- 
tion. 

Summoning  his  attendants,  he  went  to  the  room  in 
which  she  was  detained,  and,  when  the  door  was  un- 
locked, he  dismissed  them,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to 
speak  with  her.  Quietly  she  assented,  saying — 

"  Thou  art  my  jailer ;  thou  hast  a  right  to  speak." 

There  was  no  anger  in  her  tones.  He  could  have 
wished  there  had  been ;  this  dignified  calm  perplexed 
him  sorely.  He  felt  ill  at  ease  ;  for  all  his  thoughts  and 
wishes  seemed,  as  he  gazed  upon  her,  but  profanation, 
degrading  to  himself  and  leaving  her  untouched. 

"  Jailer  ?"  h' e  answered  at  last.  "  Nay,  not  quite 
that." 

"What  else?  At  least,  I  am  thy  prisoner,"  said 
Mercia. 

"  Ay,  true ;  but  not  by  any  choice  of  mine,  gentle 
lady." 

"  Why  then  not  leave  me  with  those  who  need  me 
yonder  ?"  asked  Mercia. 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  do  so ;  thou  art  so  fair,  so  young, 
BO  sweet,  and " 

"My  youth  is  better  able  to  suffer  the  hardships  of 
that  prison  than  is  the  age  of  many  who  are  there.  I 
am  content  to  bear  whatever  burden  is  placed  upon 
me,  for  His  sake." 

"  Sis  sake  ?     Of  whom  dost  thou  speak  ?" 
208 


ANCARIA 

"  Of  Him  who  came  into  the  world  to  save  the 
world,  and  died  that  men  might  live,"  answered  Mercia. 

All  this  was  so  much  jingling  of  words  to  the  ears 
of  Marcus,  who  knew  but  little  of  the  foundation  of 
the  Christian  faith,  and  he  said — 

"  Lady,  I  understand  thee  not.  Tell  me  of  this — 
superstition."  He  paused  before  the  word,  but  could 
find  no  better  substitute. 

"Dost  thou  indeed  wish  to  hear?"  asked  Mercia 
gently. 

"  Yea,  indeed,"  he  answered,  glad  only  to  keep 
silence  in  her  presence,  to  look  upon  her  and  listen  to 
the  sweet,  rich  music  of  her  voice. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  thee  the  noblest,  greatest  story  ever 
told  to  ears  of  man, — a  tale  so  sad,  so  glorious,  so 
grand,  that  imagination  cannot  equal  nor  invention 
surpass  it.  Hearken  to  it,  Prefect,  full  of  the  world 
and  its  faithlessness,  proud  in  thy  strength  of  power 
and  place,  proud  of  thy  birth  and  wealth  !  Hearken 
to  it,  and  pray  to  be  led  to  the  true  understanding  of 
it,  which,  alas  !  I  cannot  impart." 

And  then  she  told  the  story  of  the  "  Man  of  Sor- 
rows," picturing,  with  an  unconscious  vividness,  the 
lonely  night-watch  of  the  shepherds  ;  the  coming  of  the 
great  white  light;  the  terror  and  wonderment  of  those 
lowly  men,  to  whom  the  heavens  opened  as  the  angel 
of  the  Lord  came  down,  saying  unto  them,  "  Fear  not ; 
for,  behold,  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  to  all  people.  For  unto  you  is  born  this 
day  in  the  city  of  David  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the 
Lord."  "  And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel  a 
14  209 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  praising  God,  and  say- 
ing, Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good  will  toward  men." 

As  Mercia  proceeded  with  the  divine  story  her  man- 
ner seemed  inspired  ;  her  face  shone  with  the  glory  of 
conviction ;  her  eyes  were  lit  with  the  fire  of  belief  and 
faith. 

Marcus  sat  in  rapt,  silent  entrancement  as  she  told 
of  the  coming  of  the  Lord ;  of  the  strange  star  shining 
over  the  humble  stable  in  Bethlehem,  where  He  was 
born ;  of  the  going  of  the  shepherds  thither ;  of  the 
wise  men  from  the  East,  who,  led  by  the  star,  found 
Him  cradled  in  the  manger,  and  knelt  in  adoration 
before  Him ;  of  the  youth  and  glorious  manhood  of  the 
Messiah;  His  miracles,  teachings;  His  agony  and 
bloody  sweat  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane ;  His  be- 
trayal, His  crucifixion ;  His  last  cry,  "  Forgive  them, 
Father,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do."  So  ex- 
quisitely pathetic  were  the  tones  of  Mercia's  voice,  as 
she  recited  the  last  events  of  that  wondrous  sacrifice, 
that  Marcus  was  moved  to  the  soul,  and  his  silent  tears 
paid  tribute  to  the  story  and  the  absolute  belief  of  the 
narrator — a  belief  that  was  evident  in  every  word  she 
uttered. 

When  she  ended,  both  were  for  a  time  silent,  Mercia 
thinking  with  prayerful  gratitude  of  His  martyrdom, 
Marcus  of  the  strange  fable  he  had  listened  to.  Men- 
tally he  contrasted  the  clear  simplicity  of  this  new 
faith  with  the  old  Eoraan  worship  of  the  almost  count- 
less gods  of  the  mythology  ;  of  their  mundane  weak- 
nesses, vices,  and  follies ;  the  prayers  to  one  deity  for 
210 


ANCARIA 

this  favour,  to  another  for  that ;  of  the  sacrifices  to 
Jupiter,  Juno,  Ceres,  Neptune,  Venus,  Vulcan,  Mars, 
and  the  others.  How  puny,  how  unworthy  they  all 
seemed,  compared  to  the  Divine  Being  this  girl  had  so 
eloquently  described.  Fables  all,  of  course, — his  gods 
and  this  new  one  of  the  Christians, — all  myths ;  but 
how  noble  was  the  God  of  these  Nazarenes,  how  igno- 
ble his  own ! 

As  he  raised  his  eyes  to  her  face,  he  found  that  her 
gaze  was  fixed  upon  him  with  a  look  of  strange,  yearn- 
ing sadness,  that  went  straight  to  his  heart.  Where 
were  the  glib,  swift,  pretty  compliments,  the  quick, 
ready  jests  with  which  he  was  wont  to  flatter  and 
amuse  other  women  ?  The  compliments  withered  and 
shrank  in  his  brain,  unspoken ;  the  jests  never  left  his 
tongue.  He  coloured  with  shame  at  the  thought  of 
the  feeling  with  which  he  regarded  this  innocent  girl. 
His  evil  thoughts  and  desires  were  thrust  back,  beaten 
and  humiliated.  Sin  appeared  utterly  powerless  in  her 
presence.  As  Mercia  looked  upon  him,  his  nobler  self 
rose  above  the  mere  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  real  love, 
born  of  respect  bordering  on  reverence,  grew  stronger 
and  deeper. 

So  engrossed  had  he  been,  that  he  started  with  as- 
tonishment when  Viturius  came  to  warn  him  that  his 
guests  were  arriving,  and  that  he  was  required  to  re- 
ceive them.  Commending  Mercia  to  the  supervision 
of  the  faithful  captain,  Marcus  left  her,  inwardly 
raging  at  the  thought  of  the  contrast  of  her  purity 
with  the  reckless  licence  of  those  he  was  about  to  wel- 
come and  entertain. 

211 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

Mercia,  left  alone,  pondered  on  the  character  of  the 
man  she  had  learned  to  love.  In  it  she  recognised 
great  merits  and  greater  possibilities.  Quickly  intui- 
tive and  extremely  sensitive,  she  felt  the  good  that 
was  underlying  the  crust  of  evil  which,  she  saw,  was 
the  effect  of  training  and  custom  rather  than  the  out- 
come of  natural  inborn  depravity.  She  longed  for  the 
wellbeing  of  this  man's  soul, — yearned  for  the  coming 
of  the  eternal  truth  to  him.  What  power  for  good  to 
the  world  would  such  a  man  as  Marcus  become  if  im- 
bued with  the  true  faith !  She  thought  of  Saul,  his 
persecutions,  his  hatred  of  the  followers  and  disciples 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ;  of  his  sudden  conversion,  his 
ministerings,  his  teachings,  his  readiness  to  testify  to 
the  truth,  even  unto  death.  Inwardly  she  prayed  for 
the  light  to  come  to  the  young  Prefect,  as  it  had,  in 
days  gone  by,  shone  upon  the  now  revered  disciple. 
More  of  Marcus  than  of  herself  and  her  fate  did  Mercia 
think,  albeit  her  condition  was  perilous  in  the  extreme. 
She  knew  that,  if  given  up  to  the  law,  her  life  would 
be  forfeited ;  she  shuddered  to  think  of  the  death  she 
might  be  called  upon  to  die,  but  she  never  wavered  or 
thought  of  saving  herself  by  renouncing  her  faith. 
Nothing  could  shake  her  constancy  to  her  Master, — 
not  even  the  overwhelming  earthly  love  that  had  come 
to  her  for  one  who  knew  Him  not,  nor  followed  His 
precepts. 

Marcus  went  to  receive  his  guests,  many  of  whom 

had  already  arrived.      Daones   and   Gyrene,  two  of 

Home's  most  famous  dancers,  had  come  with  Dardanus 

and  Cusus.      Daones  was   a  tall,  beautiful  girl,  with 

212 


ANCARIA 

large  brown  eyes  and  a  profusion  of  gold-tinted  auburn 
hair,  which  fell  in  clustering  ringlets  to  her  waist. 
Her  figure  was  splendid,  lithe  and  supple ;  her  move- 
ments were  grace  itself;  her  temper  was  placid, — as 
easy  as  her  morals.  Gyrene  was  less  tall  than  her 
companion ;  swarthy  of  complexion,  quick  of  temper, 
tongue,  and  limb ;  pretty  in  face  and  figure.  Their 
escorts,  Cusus  and  Dardanus,  were  both  wealthy, 
young,  extravagant ;  both,  too,  already  well  fiUed  with 
wine.  The  whole  four  were  noisily  laughing  over 
some  coarse  jest  just  uttered  by  Daones. 

It  was  not  without  difficulty  that  Marcus  contrived 
to  meet  these  and  others  of  his  guests  with  the  cor- 
diality that  is  demanded  of  a  host.  As  he  was  bidding 
them  welcome,  there  was  a  laugh  in  the  prothyrum,  or 
entrance-hall,  and  Glabrio  entered,  leaning  somewhat 
heavily  upon  the  arms  of  two  women  who  were  respec- 
tively named  Thea  and  Julia;  both  dark,  handsome, 
sensuous-looking  creatures.  The  cause  of  the  mirth 
was  a  tipsy  stumble  made  by  Glabrio,  who,  missing 
one  of  the  steps,  had  been  barely  saved  from  a  heavy 
fall  by  the  outstretched  arms  of  Thea  and  Julia. 

"  Thou  art  not  hurt  ?"  lisped  Philodemus,  who  was 
following. 

"Hurt?"  echoed  Glabrio,  with  a  leer  at  the  two 
women  who  were  still  upholding  him.  "  Hurt  ?  Ay, 
hurt  to  the  heart ;  stabbed  nigh  to  death  by  two  pairs 
of  bewitching  eyes ;  pressed  to  suffocation  by  four  of 
the  loveliest  arms  man  ever  trusted,  to  his  own  un- 
doing. Didst  thou  think,  O  Philodemus  mine,  that 
the  little  stumble  made  by  me  was  accidental?  Nay, 
2I3 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

my  undiscerning  friend,  it  was  by  design  and  cunning. 
For,  look  where  that  almost  shipwreck  hath  landed 
thy  friend!  Into  what  haven  of  joy  hath  this  barque 
of  mine  been  steered!"  And  the  tipsy  old  reprobate 
bestowed  his  embraces  with  strict  impartiality  upon 
Julia  and  Thea  alike. 

The  guests  were  arriving  rapidly.  The  chariots 
rattled  up  to  the  gates  of  the  palace  incessantly,  and 
the  cries  of  the  charioteers,  the  tramping  of  the  horses, 
the  laughter  and  chatter  of  the  women  and  their 
partners,  the  sensuous  music  played  by  an  unseen 
band,  the  lamps,  the  braziers  of  incense,  the  sweet- 
smelling  flowers  (of  which  there  was  an  endless  pro- 
fusion), the  rich  and  varied  hues  of  the  bejewelled 
costumes,  the  white  arms  and  busts  of  the  women, 
their  beauty,  and  the  splendour  of  the  palace, — all 
tended  to  make  the  scene  one  of  magnificence  and 
luxury  remarkable  even  in  those  days.  And  from  all 
this  pomp  and  grandeur  the  thoughts  of  Marcus 
wandered  to  the  simple,  white-clad  figure  of  Mercia, 
whom  he  had  but  now  parted  from.  Over  the  laughter 
and  the  rattle  of  these  scores  of  gabbling  tongues  he 
heard,  in  thought,  the  sweet,  tender  voice  of  the 
Christian  girl  reciting  that  strange  story  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  "who  came  into  the  world  to  save  the 
world."  Gladly  would  he  have  exchanged  all  the 
glare,  the  luxury,  and  homage  by  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded for  that  quiet  room,  illumined  only  by  Mercia's 
dear  presence.  As  one  woman  after  another  smiled 
and  beamed  upon  him,  he  mentally  compared  them  to 
her,  and  turned  shudderingly  away. 
214 


ANCARIA 

The  most  varied  of  entertainments  were  now  in  pro- 
gress in  the  large  atrium  and  the  surrounding  rooms : 
troupes  of  posturers  and  acrobats,  performers  with 
trained  dogs  and  monkeys,  and  bevies  of  girls  dancing 
to  accompaniments  of  pipes  and  tambourines.  Every- 
where was  light,  mirth,  gaiety,  brilliancy,  beauty,  save 
in  the  heart  of  the  giver  of  the  feast,  and  there  gloomy 
unrest,  indefinable  longings,  unshaped  desires,  were 
torturing  and  perplexing  him. 

Ancaria  had,  as  was  her  wont,  left  her  coming  until 
late.  The  spoilt  beauty,  who  loved  to  be  in  a  constant 
whirl  of  excitement,  was  never  happy  unless  she  was 
the  centre  of  attraction.  Admiration  was  as  necessary 
to  her  existence  as  food  and  rest.  Not  that  she  valued 
it  when  she  received  it,  still,  she  could  not  live  without 
it.  So  she  had  purposely  delayed  her  arrival  in  order 
that  attention  might  be  focussed  upon  her  when  she 
did  come.  As  her  chariot  dashed  up  to  the  gates  of 
the  palace  the  idlers  gathered  about  them  recognised 
her  and  shouted  loud  welcomes,  a  compliment  which 
Ancaria  rewarded,  as  was  her  custom,  with  handfuls 
of  coins,  which  she  scattered  recklessly  among  the 
crowd  who  were  cheering  her.  As  she  entered  the 
atrium,  and  the  lights  from  the  lamps  fell  upon  her,  she 
looked  even  more  than  usually  radiant  and  handsome. 
Marcus  had  been  won  to  her  side,  but  he  had  to  be 
kept  there,  and  so  to-night  she  was  effulgent  in  beauty, 
radiant  and  splendid.  She  might  have  spared  her  pains, 
for  Marcus  scarcely  noticed  her,  much  to  her  annoy- 
ance and  surprise.  She  found  him  with  some  of  the 
more  seriously  inclined  among  the  male  guests,  lan- 

215 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

guidly  discussing  matters  of  the  State,  paying  no  heed 
whatever  to  the  constant  and  assertive  blandishments 
of  the  fair  ones  around  him.  With  womanly  and  par- 
donable weakness,  Ancaria  ascribed  this  to  his  pique  at 
her  tardy  arrival.  In  this  she  grievously  erred ;  Mar- 
cus would  have  been  better  pleased  had  she  remained 
away  altogether. 

"After  vainly  endeavouring,  by  many  little  feminine 
lures  and  devices,  to  draw  him  to  her  side,  all  utterly 
thrown  away  upon  and  unheeded  by  Marcus,  Ancaria 
was  compelled  to  go  to  him.  This  she  did  in  a  far  from 
amiable  frame  of  mind. 

"  Since  when  hath  the  host  refrained  from  welcom- 
ing his  guests?"  she  asked,  interrupting,  with  cool 
effrontery,  the  conversation  in  which  Marcus  was  en- 


"  Some  two  hours  ago,  when  all  who  respected  his  in- 
vitation and  wishes  had  arrived,"  was  the  icy  rejoinder 
to  her  unfortunately  impertinent  inquiry. 

There  are  some  women  who  never  know  when  it  is 
most  politic  to  leave  a  man  alone.  Ancaria  was  one  of 
this  class.  Had  she  been  possessed  of  less  beauty  and 
more  wit'she  might  have  been  warned  by  the  cold  glit- 
ter in  the  eyes  of  Marcus  that  at  another  time,  with 
other  weapons, — with  whimperings  and  tears,  for  ex- 
ample,— she  might  have  induced  him,  with  many 
caresses,  to  request  her  pardon  for  his  present  rude- 
ness. But  this  was  destined  to  be  one  of  Ancaria's 
least  triumphant  nights ;  and  she  unfortunately  de- 
tected so  much  resentment  in  the  tones  of  Marcus' 
voice,  that  she  was  impelled  to  try  what  effect  an  even 
216 


ANCARIA 

more  bitter  reply  would  have  upon  him,  and  she 
flashed  back — 

"  Ah,  all  are  not  slaves  to  the  lordly  Marcus !  There 
are  some  who  have  the  fortune  and  the  freedom  to  be 
desired  and  worshipped  by  others  who  are  even  as 
great  as  he." 

"Doubtless,"  was  the  quick  retort;  "he  must  be 
indeed  a  stranger  to  Eome  and  Roman  doings  who 
would  suspect  Ancaria  of  allegiance  to  any  one,  or  any 
score  of  masters."  A  sufficiently  brutal  speech,  and 
one  not  softened  by  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
uttered. 

Now  was  Ancaria's  opportunity.  A  little  dignity, 
a  quiet  appeal  to  his  manliness,  would  have  moved 
Marcus  to  immediate,  if  somewhat  reluctant  apology; 
but  most  unwisely  she  essayed  to  send  another  arrow 
home,  exclaiming — 

"  Or  Marcus  of  constancy  to  those  who  love  him." 

"Among  whom  Ancaria  can  scarce  be  numbered, 
for,  to  her,  constancy  is  but  another  word  for  perpet- 
ual payment,"  was  the  still  more  unmannerly  rejoinder 
made  by  Marcus. 

Ancaria  was  astounded.  Careless,  even  callous  she 
had  known  Marcus  to  be  often,  but  ever  considerate 
and  polite.  What  could  this  burst  of  unrestrained 
rudeness  mean?  What  had  provoked  it?  Ancaria 
was  guilty  of  yet  another  error ;  she  attributed  it  to 
jealousy  on  the  part  of  Marcus.  Erroneously  im- 
puting this  jealousy  to  a  fresh  access  of  love  on  his 
part,  she  determined  to  heighten  the  passion  in  order 
that  she  might  strengthen  her  hold  upon  him  when  it 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

should  please  her  to  heal,  with  tender  asseverations  of 
devotion,  his  wounded  vanity.  But  she  could  not 
even  now  have  done  with  him,  and  exclaimed  with 
asperity — 

"Ancaria  at  least  is  fortunate  enough  to  receive 
from  those  who  admire  and  seek  her  other  payments 
than  those  made  in  gold ;  respect,  deference,  and  love 
being  not  the  least  of  her  rewards." 

"But  by  many  degrees  the  least  valued,"  replied 
Marcus,  and,  taking  one  of  his  friends  by  the  arm,  he 
strolled  carelessly  away,  leaving  Ancaria  in  a  whirl  of 
wonder  and  rage.  What  could  such  behaviour  on  the 
part  of  Marcus  mean  or  portend  ?  She  must  learn,  and 
that  quickly. 

To  that  end  she  determined  to  seek  those  who  would 
be  able  to  inform  her  of  the  movements  of  Marcus 
during  the  few  days  that  had  intervened  since  her  last 
meeting  with  him.  Good  or  evil  fortune  steered  her 
to  a  little  group  of  men  and  women  to  whom  Glabrio 
was  detailing,  with  much  unction,  an  account  of  the 
meeting  of  Marcus  and  the  beautiful  Christian  girl. 
Glabrio's  description  did  not  err  on  the  side  of  under- 
rating the  charms  of  Mercia,  nor  the  effect  created  by 
her  beauty  upon  the  heart  of  the  Prefect.  "With  a  few 
rapid,  cleverly-put  questions  Ancaria  placed  herself  in 
complete  possession  of  the  whole  of  the  facts  of  this 
encounter,  and  perhaps  a  little  more.  This  was  the 
cause  of  the  change  in  Marcus — a  fresh  face!  Some 
low-bred  Christian  girl  had  dethroned  her  in  his 
favour!  In  her  burning  curiosity  to  know  what  this 
woman  was  like  she  kept  Glabrio  and  Philodemus  fully 
218 


ANCARIA 

occupied  in  replying  to  her  questions  until  the  signal 
was  given  for  the  adjournment  to  the  banqueting  hall. 

Sumptuous  as  the  reception  rooms  were,  their  splen- 
dour paled  before  the  magnificence  of  this  apartment. 
The  walls  were  exquisitely  frescoed  with  panels  repre- 
senting mythological  subjects,  the  drawing  and  colour 
all  being  in  the  highest  degree  artistic  and  elaborate. 
The  columns  that  supported  the  roof  were  twined  with 
roses,  and  garlands  of  the  same  flowers  hung  in  fes- 
toons from  pillar  to  pillar;  lamps  were  everywhere 
gleaming  from  huge  banks  of  blossoms;  the  tables 
were  almost  obscured  by  roses,  in  the  midst  of  which 
were  bejewelled  gold  cups  and  flagons.  Amphorae  of 
the  choicest  wines  stood  or  leaned  against  the  walls. 
The  divans  were  composed  of  cushions  covered  with 
the  richest  silks,  delicately  embroidered  and  luxuriously 
stuffed.  Perfumed  fountains  plashed  musically  in  va- 
rious corners  of  the  room ;  at  once  cooling  and  scenting 
the  atmosphere.  Hosts  of  slaves,  richly  attired,  stood 
round  the  guests,  ready  to  obey  their  smallest  order,  or 
slightest  desire.  The  banquet  was  a  marvel  of  culinary 
skill,  and  during  the  whole  of  the  feast  a  band  of  lutes 
and  harps  discoursed  the  most  delightful  music. 

As  the  wine  circulated,  such  restraint  as  had  existed 
began  rapidly  to  vanish.  Draperies  were  cast  aside, 
peplums  and  pallas  were  loosened — the  heat  of  the 
room  being  a  sufficient  excuse,  if  any  excuse  were 
needed  in  such  company.  Long  before  the  repast  was 
concluded  most  of  the  male  guests  and  many  of  the 
female  were  strongly  under  the  influence  of  the  wine, 
of  which  all  had  partaken  without  stint. 
219 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

Glabrio  was  in  his  element.  His  bacchanalian  pro- 
clivities were  indulged  to  the  full.  The  more  he  drank 
the  more  witty  and  humorous  he  became.  His  face, 
nose,  and  bald  crown,  on  which  the  roses  seemed  to 
wither  from  the  excess  of  heat  within,  literally  glowed 
a  ruby  red.  Not  only  did  he  take  care  that  his  own 
emptied  cup  was  immediately  refilled,  but  he  kept  a 
wary,  if  somewhat  tipsy  eye  upon  all  in  his  vicinity, 
roundly  denouncing  those  who  failed  to  keep  pace  with 
his  own  inordinate  thirst.  His  eyes  beamed  and 
twinkled  with  good-tempered  fun. 

"Drink,  my  Dardanus,  drink!  By  Bacchus!  but 
this  Falernian  is  ambrosia  fit  for  Jove's  own  table. 
Slave,  fill  another  cup  for  Dardanus.  Where's — 
where's — Philodemus — the  most  ess — esselent  Philo- 
demus — where  is  he  ?  Is  he  still  quite  drunk  ?  Or  is 
he  able  to  pledge  with  me  in  this  nectar  to  the  bright 
eyes  and  silvery  laugh  of  the  fair  Dacia  ?  Would  she 
were  here !  Philodemus,  hail !  Daones,  hand  that  cup 
to  my  friend,  my  ess — esselent  friend,  Philodemus." 

"But  he  sleeps,  my  Glabrio,"  answered  Daones. 

"  Then  awake  him.  Asleep  thus  early !  Unpardon- 
able! What  an  is — isult  to  our  host!  Awake  the 
slumberer !  Ho,  my  Philodemus !  A  libation  to  the 
goddess  Dacia !" 

"Verily,  I  will,"  quoth  the  vacuous  Philodemus,  who 
was  with  much  difficulty  partly  aroused ;  "  a  goddess 
she — the  fair  Dacia  is  a  goddess.  A  cup  to  Dacia !" 
And  with  some  difficulty  Philodemus  contrived,  with 
the  aid  of  Daones,  to  guide  the  cup  to  his  mouth. 

Marcus  was  still  moody,  silent  and  abstracted. 
220 


ANCARIA 

Edonia,  a  fair,  voluptuous,  and  beautiful  girl,  was  lean- 
ing over  him,  flashing  her  steel-blue  eyes  at  him  in  vain 
endeavour  to  attract  his  attention.  His  thoughts  were 
still  with  Mercia.  He  was  impatient  with  himself  and 
all  his  surroundings.  He  loathed  the  drunkenness 
around  him,  yet  continued  to  drink  himself,  heavily, 
silently,  morosely.  As  yet  the  wine  had  created  no 
effect  upon  him  save  to  deaden  and  benumb  his  facul- 
ties. He  was  ashamed,  and  sought  to  di-own  his  shame 
in  intoxication.  The  air  reeked  with  licentiousness; 
every  word  he  heard  seemed  to  him,  in  his  present 
frame  of  mind,  debasing  and  degrading.  The  jests 
were  coarse,  pointless,  vapid ;  but  his  guests  laughed  at 
them  with  tipsy  exaggeration.  Their  laughter  served 
still  further  to  enrage  and  disgust  him. 

Suddenly  a  cry  was  raised  for  Ancaria.  A  desire 
expressed  for  one  of  her  songs  was  received  with  shouts 
of  approval.  Ancaria  was  delighted  at  this  diversion 
in  her  favour ;  she  had  been  in  a  fever  of  anger  at  the 
want  of  attention  bestowed  upon  her  by  Marcus,  and 
this  appeal  to  her  was  exactly  what  she  desired. 

She  declined — feebly — to  exhibit  her  undoubted 
talent,  but  cleverly  insinuated  that  a  very  little  urging 
would  induce  her  to  comply  with  the  request.  The 
shouts  were  redoubled,  and,  after  some  further  hesita- 
tion, she  begged  the  guests  to  choose  what  they  wished 
her  to  perform. 

The  song  they  selected  was  called  "  Eros  and  the 
Vestal."     Ancaria  smiled  slightly  at  the  acclamation 
with  which  the  men  received  the  name  of  the  ballad 
chosen,  and  said  under  her  breath  to  Glabrio — 
221 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"Why  not  re-name  it  'Marcus  and  the  Christian' ?" 

Glabrio  laughed,  but,  with  a  look  towards  Marcus, 
said  warningly — 

"  Have  a  care,  my  nightingale.  Our  good  Prefect 
loves  not  to  jest  upon  that  subject." 

"  Doth  he  not  indeed  ?"  laughed  Ancaria.  "  I  jest 
as  I  please,  nor  choose  my  shafts  to  fit  the  bow  of  any 
man." 

But,  in  spite  of  her  assertion,  Ancaria  glanced  a  little 
uneasily  in  the  direction  of  Marcus,  fearing  that  he  had 
overheard  her.  But  he  was  at  that  moment  listening 
to  Edonia,  and  Ancaria's  spiteful  remark  had  not 
reached  his  ears. 

Silence  was  called,  and  Ancaria  began  her  perform- 
ance. 

Wrapping  her  draperies  about  her  head  and  face,  she 
assumed  a  manner  so  modest  and  demure  that  the  men 
shouted  with  delight  even  before  she  had  sung  a  word. 
When  the  uproar  had  subsided,  she  continued  in  a  voice 
well  under  control,  low  and  exquisitely  musical.  In 
soft  and  cooing  tones  she  sang  of  the  Vestal's  modesty, 
and  of  her  exceeding  care  to  keep  her  beauties  hidden 
from  the  gaze  of  all  mankind ;  no  eye  was  to  behold 
even  her  face  unveiled.  In  this  phase  of  the  character 
the  singer  seemed  to  shiver  with  the  iciness  of  her  own 
chastity.  Next,  she  described  the  coming  of  Eros. 
How,  at  his  first  approach,  the  Vestal  drew  her  veil 
still  closer  over  her  face ;  but,  as  the  god  of  Love  gazed 
upon  her,  curiosity  impelled  her  to  draw  it  a  little  aside 
to  peep  upon  him.  Then,  as  she  began  to  feel  the 
warmth  of  his  breath  upon  her  face,  she  gradually  let 
222 


ANCARIA 

her  hood  and  veil  fall  from  her  head  and  neck.  As 
Eros  drew  closer,  her  face  burned  with  the  heat  of  his 
presence,  her  breath  came  in  short  gasps,  and  her  bosom 
heaved.  All  this  Ancaria  pantomimed  with  skill  and 
subtlety.  Eros  became  more  importunate,  and  the 
Yestal  shrank  in  a  terror  which  the  singer  contrived 
to  pourtray  as  half-feigned,  half-real.  Love  still  ad- 
vanced and  clamoured,  while  tb.o  Vestal's  resistance 
became  more  feeble ;  she  appeared  nigh  unto  swooning 
under  his  attacks.  Her  drapery  seemed  to  stifle  her. 
She  threw  it  from  her,  and  her  magnificent  figure  was 
fully  revealed  by  the  diaphanous  and  filmy  gauze  that 
clung  about  her  while  she  sang,  writhed,  and  twisted, 
as  she  reproduced,  with  wonderful  simulation,  the 
yielding  up  of  the  last  barriers  of  reserve  to  the 
assaults  of  Love. 

Marcus,  for  whom  the  warmth  and  passion  of  Anca- 
ria's  singing  had  been  especially  devised,  had  scarcely 
noticed  her,  but  at  the  finish  he  cast  at  her  a  look  of 
profound  contempt,  which  fortunately  she  did  not  see, 
and,  taking  advantage  of  the  applause  and  commotion 
that  attended  the  termination  of  her  performance,  he 
strode  from  the  room. 


223 


CHAPTER   XVI 
MERCIA'S  PEKIL 

MARCUS  was  angry  with  Ancaria,  his  guests,  and 
himself.  In  his  heart  was  a  dull,  leaden  pain,  born  of 
regret  and  remorse.  Eegret  for  neglected  opportuni- 
ties of  doing  good,  remorse  for  acts  of  evil, — committed 
thoughtlessly  enough,  it  is  true,  but  the  remembrance 
of  them  brought  the  hot  blood  in  crimson  flushes  of 
shame  to  his  face  and  brow. 

He  sought  the  quiet  of  a  room  away  from  the  ban- 
queting-hall — the  same  from  which  he  had  looked  over 
the  city  the  night  before,  while  waiting  for  news  of 
Mercia.  "The  night  before!"  Was  it  possible  that 
only  four-and-twenty  hours  had  passed  since  then  ?  It 
seemed  as  though  half  his  life  had  been  lived  in  that 
one  little  day.  He  walked  to  the  casement,  and,  look- 
ing out  into  the  quiet  night,  wondered  at  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  him.  What  was  it  made  the 
feast  he  had  quitted  so  abhorrent  ?  The  men  whom  he 
had  thought  his  honest  friends  but  one  short  week  ago, 
now  seemed  to  him  fawning,  self-seeking,  flattering 
sycophants.  The  women  he  had  esteemed  as  careless, 
happy,  merry  companions,  he  now  saw  as  leering, 
hollow,  false-hearted  jades,  whose  charms  were  re- 
garded by  themselves  as  so  much  merchandise  for 
which  was  to  be  exacted  °.very  obolus  possible  from 
224 


MERCIA'S  PERIL 

those  who  trafficked  in  them.  And  these  were  his 
friends !  Friends  ?  Yes,  friends  all  for  what  he  had, 
not  one  for  what  he  was. 

A  peal  of  drunken  laughter  from  the  supper-room 
broke  in  upon  his  thoughts,  and,  guessing  at  the  jest 
which  provoked  it,  he  wondered  how  he  could  possibly 
have  found  amusement  in  such  coarse  ribaldry.  He 
thought  of  their  mirthless  gibes,  their  hollow  laughter, 
and  wonderingly  asked  himself  whether  they  had 
changed  ?  Was  it  possible  that  the  drunken  indecency, 
the  lewd  licence  of  to-night  could  have  brought  him 
any  pleasure  but  a  few  nights  ago?  Were  those 
brazen,  immodest,  unsexed  women,  reeking  with  sen- 
suality and  unbridled  lust,  or,  what  was  even  worse, 
the  paid-for  simulation  of  these  vices — were  they,  could 
they  be,  his  chosen  companions  of  yesterday?  No, 
they  had  not  changed ;  there  was  not  much  variety  in 
such  women  as  these.  Their  tricks  of  trade  were  but 
few,  and  old  as  the  hills  bathed  in  the  moonlight  out  yon- 
der. The  change  was  in  himself.  Like  some  life-long 
prisoner  in  a  darkened  cell,  he  had  learned  to  look 
upon  his  feeble,  flickering  lamp  as  the  only  light; 
being  released,  he  had  seen  for  the  first  time  the  sun, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  knew  what  light  and  darkness 
meant.  Yes,  light  had  come;  not  in  the  full,  but 
bright  enough  to  show  the  darkness  he  was  leaving 
behind  him.  What  had  brought  him  light?  He 
looked  at  the  prison  across  the  way,  picturing  Mercia 
upon  her  knees,  as  he  had  found  her  when  he  entered 
her  dungeon.  In  fancy  he  saw  her  again  in  the  room 
in  his  own  palace ;  and  he  felt  that  the  sunshine  of  her 
15  225 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

purity  had  illumined  the  dark  void  in  which  he  had 
lived  till  now. 

Yes,  it  was  Mercia  who  had  wrought  this  change  in 
him.  How  ?  By  what  magic  or  sorcery  had  she 
transformed  the  whole  of  his  desires,  tastes,  and 
wishes?  Was  it  her  beauty?  At  the  supper-table 
within  there  were  others  as  beautiful  as  she.  Her 
virtues?  Not  she  alone  was  virtuous.  He  had  met 
and  known  other  virtuous  women.  Berenice,  who  so 
loved  him,  he  believed  to  be  pure  and  true.  Had  he 
not  surrounded  Mercia  with  the  halo  of  his  own 
romance?  Would  not  possession  dispel  the  illusion 
conjured  up  by  his  all  too  vivid  imagination  ?  After 
all,  it  might  be  but  a  passing  fancy,  a  mere  infatua- 
tion that  would  vanish  in  a  night.  Why  should  he 
hesitate?  Mercia  was  there,  alone,  his  prisoner, — if 
he  so  willed,  his  slave.  Who  could  or  would  step 
between  him  and  his  will  ?  No  one.  Why  should  he 
not  go  to  her  now  ?  She  would  yield — she  must. 

Thus  Marcus  argued  with  himself,  and,  as  the  rich 
wine  he  had  drunk  so  feverishly  began  to  flow  more 
freely  through  his  veins,  his  passion  rose,  and  the 
better  part  of  his  nature  was  obscured  again.  Surely 
he  was  but  a  timid,  hesitating  fool  to  let  this  girl  so 
master  him,  so  enthral  and  defy  him.  But  that  sweet 
face  and  voice,  that  fable  of  the  Nazarene,  told  so 
exquisitely ! 

Again  were  his  thoughts  interrupted  by  a  drunken 
shout    from   the   banqueting-hall,    and    Glabrio,    with 
unsteady  feet  and  waggling  head,  came  reeling  up  to 
Marcus,  asking  with  hiccoughing  reproach — 
226 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

"  Why  are  we  thus  dis — deserted,  Marcus  mine  ?" 

Marcus  looked  at  Glabrio  with  an  expression  in 
which  a  certain  liking  for  the  old  bacchanalian  was 
mingled  with  undisguised  anger  at  the  intrusion  upon 
his  reverie.  Glabrio  was  quite  unconscious  of  offence, 
and  rambled  on — 

"  I  have  been  sent  to  bid  thee  return.  Why  hast 
thou  left  the  table  ?" 

"  I — the  heat  stifled  me,"  answered  Marcus  eva- 
sively. 

"  I  tell  thee  I  have  been  sent  to  beg  thee  to  return. 
The  fun  lags  without  thee — the  wine  no  longer  cheers 
— the  song  enlivens  not — and  the  jest  falls  flat.  Ancaria 
sighs  like  the  bellows  of  a  smithy.  Eeturn  to  her." 

"Ancaria?"  queried  Marcus,  with  a  look  of  disdain. 

"  Ay,  Ancaria.  By  Venus,  she  is  fair !  Doth  she  not 
content  thee?" 

"  Content  me  ?"  Marcus  turned  towards  the  window, 
from  which  could  be  seen  the  wing  of  the  palace  in 
which  Mercia  was  imprisoned,  and  mentally  he  com- 
pared her  with  Ancaria ;  then,  with  an  impatient  shrug 
of  his  shoulders,  he  continued,  "  Contentment  is  for  the 
gods,  good  Glabrio.  Nay,  even  they  seek  for  that  pearl 
in  vain." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Glabrio,  who  did  not  in  the 
least  understand  what  was  the  drift  of  his  friend's  re- 
mark. "  But  Ancaria — a  flower — a  rose — the  very  rose 
of  roses !" 

"Yea,"  answered  Marcus,  with  a  gesture  of  con- 
tempt, "but  plucked  the  day  before  yesterday,  and 
swiftly  fading." 

227 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Fading  ?  Nay,  in  her  first  bloom  rather.  Fading  ? 
Ancaria?  She  is  divine!  Her  beauty  Cytherean,  and 
her  temper — her  temper!"  (this  with  a  cautious  look 
over  his  shoulder,  for  Ancaria  might  be  within  hear- 
ing). "  Oh,  my  Marcus,  thou  art  a  bold  man  to  risk 
the  rousing  of  that  temper.  Juno  herself  is  dove-like, 
in  comparison.  Eeturn  to  her  in  time." 

"Keturn  to  her?  Ancaria?  I  begin  to  hate  and 
loathe  Ancaria  and  all  her  kind !  Go  back  to  them — 

tell  them  I "     What  was  Glabrio  to  tell  them? 

That  he  longed  with  all  his  heart  to  be  rid  of  them  all, 
at  once  and  for  ever  ?  That  his  yearning  to  be  with 
the  Christian  girl  was  almost  uncontrollable  ?  No,  he 
could  not  tell  them  that !  And  he  lamely  added,  "  Tell 
them  I  am  busy — tell  them  any  lie — tell  them  the 
truth — only  leave  me  to  myself!"  And  he  flung  him- 
self impatiently  on  a  couch,  and  rested  his  head  upon 
his  folded  arms. 

Glabrio  staggered  towards  him  with  tipsy  gravity, 
saying— 

"Here's  a  change  indeed!  Has  this  Christian  be- 
witched thee  ?  Is  it  possible  thou  art  turning  Christian 
too  ?" 

The  question  startled  Marcus.  Christian !  Was  it 
possible  that  this  girl  had  so  much  power  over  him  that 
even  the  drunken  carelessness  of  a  Glabrio  could  not 
fail  to  perceive  it  ?  Had  he  so  little  command  over 
himself  that  all  who  saw  him  could  see  his  infatuation  ? 
And  was  the  feeling  he  possessed  for  her  influenced  by 
her  religion  ?  Could  it  be  that  he  was  so  easily  swayed 
by  a  pretty  face,  a  pretty  fable  ? 
228 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

These  questions  passed  rapidly  through  his  mind, 
but  he  remembered  that  not  only  these  questions  re- 
quired answers — Glabrio  was  also  waiting  a  reply. 
How  could  he  make  him  understand,  or  expect  him  to 
sympathise  with  his  feelings  ?  Better  be  rid  of  him, 
he  thought,  and  so  he  cried  impatiently — 

"  I — I  Christian  ?  Leave  me,  Glabrio,  leave  me.   Go !" 

"  Marcus,  Marcus,  thou  art  in  a  bad  way.  Some- 
thing is  out  of  order  with  tbee."  And  Glabrio  shook 
his  head  with  so  much  energy  that  the  rapidly  wilting 
rose-wreath  tumbled  on  to  his  nose.  "  Is  it  the  heart 
or  the  stomach  ?  If  'tis  the  latter,  send  for  the  leech — 
if  the  former,  send  for  the  woman.  Women  and  phy- 
sicians resemble  each  other  in  this — 'tis  kill  or  cure  with 
both  of  them."  And,  in  the  endeavour  to  emphasise  his 
speech  with  an  imposing  and  dignified  gesture,  he  lost  his 
balance,  and  sat  down  all  too  suddenly  upon  the  couch. 

"  To  what  avail  ?"  asked  Marcus.  "  She  is  unlike  all 
other  women  I  have  ever  met.  Her  innocence  inflames, 
even  while  it  baffles  me,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  I  find  myself  baulked.  I  can  neither  conquer  nor 
forget  her.  If  I  start  some  jest  and  look  into  her  pure 
eyes,  it  dies  upon  my  Ijps  in  very  shame.  Between 
my  desire  and  Mercia,  her  innocence  rises  like  a  rock 
of  adamant — I  may  beat  my  heart  out  dashing  myself 
against  it,  but  I  can  never  move  it.  And  yet  I  feel  I 
must,  or  else  go  mad !  Glabrio,  I  fear  that  girl's  purity, 
absolutely  fear  it."  And,  rising  from  the  couch,  Mar- 
cus strode  fiercely  about  the  room,  Glabrio  watching 
him  from  under  his  disordered  vine-leaves  and  roses. 

"Yes,  I  have  felt  that  way  myself"  (this  he  said 
229 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

with  maudlin  sentimentality)  "  when  I've  heen  too 
sober"  (this  with  an  accent  of  deep  regret  for  ever 
having  been  in  such  an  undesirable  condition).  "  But 
a  full  cup  of  wine  soon  cured  that  complaint  with  me. 
Send  for  this  Mercia.  What  if  she  did  deny  thee  yes- 
terday? 'Twas  but  to  whet  thy  appetite  for  her  con- 
sent to-day.  Let  her  but  think  she'll  lose  thee,  and 
she'll  yield — and  yield  in  haste,  be  sure." 

Marcus  was  looking  from  the  window,  seemingly  not 
heeding  the  counsel  of  this  tipsy  philosopher,  but,  in 
reality,  carefully  weighing  every  word  he  uttered. 
Was  it  not  more  than  possible  that  Glabrio  was  right  ? 
Might  not  this  innocence  and  purity,  after  all,  be  a 
snare,  a  cleverly-devised  trick  to  draw  him  into  some 
serious  entanglement  ?  Was  she  prompted  to  act  thus 
by  a  desire  to  enmesh  him  in  some  of  the  plots  or 
schemes  of  her  associates?  Women  were  cunning — 
full  of  wiles,  adepts  at  deception.  Yet,  no !  Not  this 
gentle  creature ;  it  could  not  be.  Turning  to  Glabrio, 
he  exclaimed — 

"Ah  !  thou  dost  not  know  Mercia." 

"  No,  I  do  not — but  I  know  her  sex,"  was  the  sen- 
tentious reply. 

"  But  Mercia  is  virtuous." 

"Virtuous?  Virtue  is  as  saleable  and  pursh-pursh- 
purshasable  as  most  commodities,"  chuckled  Glabrio. 
"  Every  woman  has  her  price.  It  is  all  a  question  of 
marketable  value.  Thou  hast  made  thy  bid — she  hath 
declined.  Bid  again,  my  friend,  and  bid  higher.  Thou 
art  rich,  and,  as  it  is  more  than  evident  that  thou  dost 
desire  this  par-tic — partic-lar  piece  of  merchandise,  be 
230 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

content  to  pay  for  it.  Only,  here  I  do  solemnly  be- 
seech thee  to  hearken  to  me,  whatever  thou  dost  offer, 
let  it  not  include  thyself,  my  Marcus ;  thou  art  too 
precious  for  a  score  of  Mereias."  And  Glabrio,  fatigued 
with  so  much  talking,  reached  round  mechanically  for 
the  wine-cup,  which,  unhappily  for  his  desires,  was  not 
within  reach. 

Marcus  was  only  too  eager  to  see  Mercia  again,  and 
the  advice  given  by  Glabrio  jumped  too  closely  with 
his  own  inclinations  for  him  to  decline  it.  He  struck 
the  gong  upon  the  table  by  his  side,  saying  to  Glabrio — 

"  Glabrio,  thou  art  a  fool— but  with  thy  folly  is  ever 
a  smattering  of  wisdom.  I  will  send  for  Mercia." 

The  black  slave  glided  quickly  into  the  room,  in  an- 
swer to  the  summons  made  by  Marcus,  who,  in  quick, 
hard  tones,  ordered  him  to  bring  the  lady  Mercia.  As 
the  slave  left  the  room,  Marcus  moved  to  the  casement. 
From  the  dungeon,  across  the  courtyard,  came  the 
sound  of  singing ;  it  was  the  captive  Christians  chant- 
ing this  hymn — 

"  Glory,  Glory,  Glory,  hail  to  Thee,  O  Father, 
"We,  Thy  children,  crave  Thy  hand  to  guide  our  steps  aright. 
Glory,  Glory,  Glory,  Thou  Who  sent  the  Saviour, 
Lead  us  through  the  darkness  to  Eternal  Light. 

"  Glory,  Glory,  Glory,  Thou  Who  died  to  save  us, 
By  Thy  Cross  of  Calvary,  we  kneel  in  trust  this  night ; 
Glory,  Glory,  Glory,  Thou  wilt  walk  beside  us, 
Guide  us  through  death's  valley  to  Eternal  Lijht." 

The  night  was  still,  and  the  words  of  the  simple 
hymn  came  clearly  and  plainly  to  the  ears  of  Marcus, 
231 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

who  felt  strangely  moved.  Another  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing perplexed  him.  He  almost  regretted  having  sent 
for  Mercia.  No  such  tender  sentiment  disturbed 
Glabrio,  who,  with  admonishing  and  didactic  gravity, 
again  addressed  his  friend — 

"  The  woman  is  sent  for.  Now,  hearken  to  my  folly. 
That  which  a  man  hath  he  seldom  longs  for.  Long- 
ing makes  a  man  sick.  Thou  art  hungry  with  long- 
ing ;  if  thou  wouldst  be  well,  long  no  longer.  A  good 
full  meal,  my  Marcus,  is  what  my  folly  counsels — a 

good "     Here  he  paused  for  a  moment,  listening 

to  the  chant  of  the  captives.  "  How  those  Christian 
prisoners  of  yours  sing,  Marcus !  Are  they  always  at 
worship,  night  and  day  ?  Hath  death  no  terrors  for 
these  Christians  ?" 

Marcus  had  gone  to  the  entrance  to  the  room,  not 
heeding  Glabrio' s  loquacity.  He  was  eagerly  and  im- 
patiently awaiting  Mercia. 

At  last  the  slave  appeared,  followed  by  Mercia.  The 
thought  that  she  should  encounter  the  tipsy  leers  of 
Glabrio  was  so  repugnant  to  Marcus  that  he  turned  to 
him,  and,  in  urgent  tones,  said — 

"  Go,  Glabrio.     Return  to  thy  friends." 

But  Glabrio,  ever  alive  to  the  charms  of  women, 
pleaded — 

"  Let  me  see  this  beauty.  Send  me  not  hence,  I  beg 
of  thee,  without  one  embrace." 

Marcus  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  Mercia  in  the 
arms  of  such  a  man  as  Glabrio,  and  cried  indignantly — 

"  Thou  ?  Thou  embrace  her  ?  Go  !  Why,  thy  very 
look  would  pollute  her." 

232 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

This  was  too  much  even  for  Glabrio's  equanimity ;  he 
felt  as  nearly  angry  as  was  possible  for  a  man  of  his 
easy  disposition.  He  staggered  to  his  feet  with  all  the 
dignity  that  his  tipsiness  would  admit  of,  and,  vainly 
trying  to  straighten  the  vine- leaves  on  his  slippery  pate, 
he  protested — 

"  Come,  come,  Marcus !  I  am  fairly  good-tempered, 
drunk  or  sober,  but  this  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  Pol- 
lute is  a  harsh  word — ess — esseedingly  harsh.  I  am 
not  the  plague!"  And  he  drew  himself  up  almost 
straight,  with  such  a  grotesque  attempt  at  dignity  that, 
had  Marcus  been  less  engrossed  in  the  coming  of  Mer- 
cia,  he  must  have  laughed  outright.  However,  his 
present  desire  was  to  get  Glabrio  out  of  the  room,  and 
he  answered  quickly — 

"  Well,  well,  I  was  hasty ;  but  go,  Glabrio." 

"  But  pollute  ?"  echoed  Glabrio,  with  tipsy  pathos  in 
his  voice. 

"  I  was  wrong.     Forgive  me,  Glabrio." 

At  this  plea  for  pardon  all  Glabrio's  mild  resentment 
vanished  ;  a  broad  smile  of  content  widened  his  capa- 
cious mouth,  and,  chuckling  to  himself,  he  murmured — 

"  Well,  well,  I  bear  no  man  ill-will,  least  of  all  my 
Marcus.  Such  wines !  .  .  .  such  wome  .  .  .  !  Oh !  ah, 
yes!  .  .  .  reminds  me  .  .  .  Ancaria — temper  ...  do 
not  forget  Ancar " 

An  impatient  gesture  from  Marcus  interrupted  him, 
and  he  went  on,  knowingly, — 

"  "lis  well.  I  understand.  I  am  no  spoil-sport.  I 
am  going." 

"  Then  go.   But  say  nothing  of  Mercia,"  urged  Marcus. 

233 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"No,  no;  discress — discression  itself.  Do  not  fear 
your  Glabrio."  And,  with  many  a  wink  and  nod,  he 
waddled  away  to  the  banqueting-hall,  from  which  an 
uproarious  burst  of  laughter  was  heard,  announcing  his 
return. 

Marcus  gave  a  quick  sigh  of  relief,  for  Mercia  was 
close  at  hand.  As  she  entered,  he  saw,  to  his  astonish- 
ment, that  she  had  chains  upon  her  wrists.  Turning 
to  the  slave,  he  demanded — 

"  Who  has  dared  to  do  this  ?" 

"  The  guard,  Excellence,  fearing  that  she  might  again 
escape." 

"  Take  off  those  chains  instantly!" 

The  slave,  taking  a  key  from  his  girdle,  unlocked 
and  removed  the  manacles. 

"  Send  the  guard  to  Viturius.  He  shall  repent  his 
officiousness." 

The  slave  made  his  salaam,  and  went  noiselessly 
away. 

Marcus  bowed  with  grave  respect  to  Mercia,  saying, 
with  much  regret, — 

"  Lady,  I  grieve  that  thou  hast  been  thus  insulted. 
I  did  not  know  of  it,  believe  me.  'Twas  done  against 
my  direct  commands." 

Mercia  replied,  quietly  and  sadly, — 

"  I  desire  no  favour,  sir.  What  my  companions  suffer 
I  would  suffer  too." 

"  But  they  are  so  different,"  urged  Marcus. 

"  Indeed,  yes ;  and  most  of  them  less  able  to  endure 
the  chains  than  I,"  was  the  gentle  response. 

With  difficulty  Marcus  restrained  the  inclination  to 

234 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

take  the  beautiful  creature  in  his  arms.  The  brutal 
advice  given  by  Glabrio  had  borne  some  fruit.  For  the 
time,  his  evil  propensities  were  strongly  in  the  as- 
cendant. The  sight  of  her  beauty  tempted  him  into 
forgetfulness  of  her  purity.  He  glided  quietly  to  her 
side,  murmuring — 

"  That  lovely  form — those  tender  wrists  were  made 
for  other  chains — the  chains  of  love."  And  he  moved 
still  nearer  to  her.  But  Mercia  gently  retreated  from 
him,  and,  with  calm  dignity,  asked — 

"  "Why  didst  thou  send  for  me  ?" 

"  To  feast  upon  thy  beauty ;  to  hear  the  music  of 
thy  voice;  to  see  the  light  that  beams  from  those 
bright  eyes ;  and  watch  the  roses  chase  the  lilies  from 
thy  cheeks."  Marcus  spoke  in  deep,  low  tones,  his 
eyes  hungrily  taking  note  of  all  her  loveliness.  Mercia 
shrank  from  him,  and  said — 

"  Wouldst  thou  indeed  do  me  a  service  ?" 

"Gladly!"  replied  Marcus  eagerly.  "Command:  I 
obey.  Thou  hast  but  to  name  thy  wishes." 

"  Send  me  back  to  my  fellow-prisoners." 

"Ask  anything  but  that,"  urged  Marcus,  with  a 
slight  touch  of  resentment  in  his  accents. 

"  That  and  their  freedom  is  all  I  wish." 

"  I  cannot  grant  thee  either  request." 

"  Why  ?    Thou  art  all-powerful." 

"I  cannot  give  them  freedom,  because  the  law  is 
stronger  than  I,  its  officer.  I  cannot  send  thee  back 
to  them,  because  my  love  for  thee  is  greater  even  than 
my  desire  to  serve  thee." 

Mercia  shrank  yet  farther  from  him.     His  eyes  were 

235 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

flaming  with  wine  and  passion.  She  was  alone  with 
the  absolute  lord  of  her  liberty  and  life.  She  began  to 
dread  the  consequences  of  her  coming  thither.  She 
had  wished  to  see  him  again,  but  she  had  never  seen 
him  as  he  appeared  to  her  now.  The  manly  solicitude 
for  her  safety  had  given  place  to  undisguised  admira- 
tion. Mercia  felt  a  quick  pang  of  regret  clutch  at  her 
heart  as  she  measured  the  fall  of  this  man  in  her  es- 
teem. Her  intuition  bade  her  escape  from  him  if  she 
could,  and  she  said,  with  great  dignity, — 

"  Sir,  I  am  a  prisoner  of  the  law.  If  I  have  trans- 
gressed that  law,  punish  me.  I  have  been  taught  to 
suffer  without  murmuring." 

"  Punish  thee  ?"  he  echoed.  "  Suffer  ?  I  would  not 
have  thee  suffer  a  single  pang.  Come,  let  us  be  friends." 
And  again  he  moved  nearer  to  her,  endeavouring  to 
take  her  hand.  Mercia  quietly  avoided  him  as  she 
answered — 

"Friendship  with  the  good  cannot  exist  without 
respect." 

Marcus  bit  his  lip  in  anger.  Who  was  this  girl  that 
she  should  so  repulse  him  ?  His  caresses,  so  sought 
after  by  all  other  women,  declined  by  this  strange  girl, 
with  almost  a  shudder !  He  controlled  a  feeling  of  re- 
sentment and  asked — 

"  And  thou  hast  no  respect  for  me  ?     Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  How  can  I  respect  one  who  has  no  respect  for  him- 
self?" was  the  gentle  reproof. 

"And  have  I  no  respect  for  myself?"  he  questioned. 

"No  man  respecteth  himself  who  hath  no  respect 
for  woman.  For  the  Teacher  hath  said  that  woman  is 
236 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

the  fount  of  all  that  is  good  and  beautiful  in  man." 
Mercia  said  this  with  such  firm,  though  sweet  dignity, 
and  with  so  much  conviction,  that  Marcus  paused  to 
gaze  upon  her  in  wonder.  Never  had  woman  so  spoken 
to  him  before.  He  was  perplexed  beyond  measure. 
With  him  was  all  the  might  and  force  of  unrestrained 
manhood,  power  of  place,  strength  of  will ;  and  yet  this 
physically  frail  girl,  alone,  seemingly  unprotected, 
dominated  and  controlled  him,  yea,  even  against  his 
will  and  desires;  lessened  and  weakened  the  evil, 
prompted  and  strengthened  the  good  in  him.  Invol- 
untarily he  submitted  to  her  virtue  and  acknowledged 
her  goodness  as  he  uttered — 

"  Ah,  I  have  met  few  such  women,  lady." 

Softly,  yet  firmly,  came  the  answer — 

"  Women  are  too  often  what  men  desire  them  to  be. 
What  man  desires  that  a  woman,  other  than  his  own 
kin,  should  be  good  ?" 

"Good?"  Marcus  laughed.  "Good?  Eight,  wrong, 
virtue,  vice,  goodness,  sin, — what  are  they  ?  The  acci- 
dents of  habits  and  conditions ;  a  mass  of  contradic- 
tions amongst  which  we  men  grope  blindly,  raking 
and  scratching  for  that  which  is  not  there — happiness. 
Ah !  happiness  is  a  rare  thing,  lady, — most  rare, — and 
is  seldom  found  when  sought  for.  If  it  comes  my  way 
unsought,  why  should  I  reject  it?" 

With  earnest  conviction  came  the  gentle  answer — 

"  Happiness  is  seldom  found,  because  men  seek  it  in 
pleasure.  Pleasure  and  happiness  are  not  always 
akin.  Pleasure  is  too  often  of  the  world ;  true  happi- 
ness comes  from  God." 

237 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  What  God  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  The  only  God — the  Everlasting." 

"  So  we  consider  all  gods.  Are  they  not  all  immor- 
tal?" 

"  There  are  no  gods  save  One." 

"  To  avow  that  is  to  admit  thyself  a  Christian." 

Mercia  remained  silent,  and,  after  a  moment,  Marcus 
proceeded — 

"  Thou  art  a  Christian  ?  Have  no  fear.  I  promise 
thee  I  will  not  use  thy  confession  to  thy  detriment,  but 
it  is  true,  is  it  not  ?  Thou  art  a  Christian  ?" 

"  I  will  not  deny  it." 

"  Why  didst  thou  become  one  ?"  Marcus  asked,  almost 
contemptuously. 

"Why  does  the  sun  shine,  the  flowers  bloom,  the 
birds  sing  ?  Because  He  willed  it."  Her  eyes,  up- 
turned, beamed  with  celestial  light.  A  smile  of  intense 
joy  was  upon  her  lips.  Filled  with  the  rapture  of 
belief,  she  appeared  less  a  thing  of  earth  than  heaven. 
But,  for  the  time,  her  influence  for  good  on  Marcus 
was  gone ;  he  was  blind  to  all  but  his  passion  for  her. 
He  could  not  think  or  reason  ;  he  could  only  look  upon 
Mercia  with  the  eyes  of  mad,  unholy  longing.  Moving 
closer  to  her,  his  voice  coarsened  and  hoarse  with  the 
intensity  of  his  desires,  he  said — 

"  Lady,  we  stand  here  arguing  like  two  parchment- 
dried  philosophers;  we,  who  are  young,  and  feel 
youth's  hot  blood  galloping  through  full  veins.  We  are 
not  musty  pedants,  but  warm,  passionate  children  on 
the  very  threshold  of  life.  Let  us  leave  philosophy 
and  doctrine  to  grizzled  greybeards,  and  let  us  love." 
238 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

And  with  that  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  pressed 
her  passionately  to  his  breast.  Mercia  was  terrified. 
Involuntarily,  a  slight  scream  escaped  her,  and  she 
cried,  struggling  to  release  herself, — 

"  Pray,  let  me  go  hence  :  I  fear  thee !" 

But  Marcus  held  her  fast,  and  with  his  face  bent 
down  close  to  hers,  he  whispered — 

"  Fear  me  ?  Nay,  love  is  soft  and  kind  and  gentle. 
What  is  there  to  fear  ?" 

Still  she  strove  to  free  herself,  and  still  he  held  her 
close  ;  and  again  she  pleaded — 

"  I  beg  of  thee,  let  me  go  hence,  even  though  it  be  to 
death." 

Marcus  grew  furious.  To  be  thrust  away  from  this 
girl  with  such  loathing  and  horror — for  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  expression  upon  Mercia's  face — was  so 
wounding  to  his  vanity  that,  for  the  moment,  he  almost 
hated  her.  Now  all  his  pity  for  her  helpless  con- 
dition was  gone;  she  could  not  protect  herself,  it 
was  most  evident.  He  had  been  too  submissive,  he 
thought,  too  gentle,  too  considerate.  No  man  ever 
yet  profited  by  yielding  too  completely  to  the  whims 
of  women.  He  would  cease  to  plead — he  would 
command.  Death  preferable  to  his  embraces?  This 
proud  or  cunning  Christian  girl  had  yet  something  to 
learn  of  his  character;  he  was  not  all  submission, 
not  quite  altogether  weak  and  docile — as  she  would 
find! 

"  Death  ?"  he  repeated.  "  Let  us  to-morrow  welcome 
grisly  death ;  to-day  thou  shalt  taste  some  of  the  joys 
of  living." 

239 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

He  went  to  a  table,  and  pouring  out  a  full  goblet  of 
strong  wine,  he  exclaimed — 

"  By  Venus !  my  blood  must  be  half- frozen  in  my 
veins  that  I  have  let  thee  waste  that  beauty  in  solitude 
so  long."  He  emptied  the  cup,  drinking  to  the  last 
drop.  "  Glabrio  was  right,"  he  thought.  He  had  been 
"  too  sober."  "  A  cup  of  good  wine"  would  dispel  the 
sickly  sentimentality  of  his  feelings  towards  this  obdu- 
rate or  calculating  girl.  The  wine  was  powerful,  and 
surged  through  his  body  like  liquid  fire.  He  flung 
down  the  cup  upon  the  table,  and  turned  towards 
Mercia. 

But  quickly  Ancaria  entered  the  room,  and,  not  ob- 
serving Mercia,  went  straight  to  Marcus,  saying,  as  she 
threw  her  arms  around  his  neck, — 

"  Ah,  thou  truant !     Have  I  found  thee  at  last  ?" 

Thus  evil  wrought  for  good ;  the  intervention  of  the 
brazen  Ancaria  unwittingly  preserved  her  purer  sister 
from  insult. 

Still  ignorant  that  she  was  not  alone  with  Marcus 
(for  Mercia  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  partly 
hidden  in  the  shadow),  Ancaria  continued — 

"  Why  hast  thou  forsaken  us  ?  Glabrio,  sent  to  woo 
thee  back,  returned  without  thee,  and  would  not  tell  us 
why.  Come,  return  to  thy  friends.  The  wine  lacks 
flavour,  and  the  feast  its  zest,  while  thou  art  absent." 

Almost  fiercely  Marcus  disengaged  himself  from 
Ancaria's  embrace.  Half  in  wonderment,  half  in 
anger,  she  asked — 

"What  means  this  sudden  change  in  thee?    Dost 
thou  110  longer  love  Ancaria  ?" 
240 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

Marcus  turned  and  looked  towards  Mercia,  who  was 
gazing  through  the  casement  into  the  night,  in  appar- 
ent indifference  to  the  presence  of  Ancaria  or  himself. 
"  Love  Anearia !"  The  thought  sickened  him.  Love 
this  shameless  creature  !  With  a  swift  glance  he  com- 
pared the  two  women,  and  for  the  courtesan  he  felt  a 
loathing  unutterable.  With  a  struggle  he  conquered 
the  feeling  sufficiently  to  enable  him  to  say,  with  com- 
parative steadiness  of  voice, — 

"  Go  back  to  thy  friends.  Go,  and  leave  me  here 
alone." 

"  Alone  ?    But,  Marcus " 

A  slight  movement  on  the  part  of  Mercia  caused 
Ancaria  to  look  in  her  direction.  Seeing  her,  she 
assumed  a  look  of  disdainful  inquiry,  and,  with  raised 
eyebrows,  she  said — 

"  Oh,  I  understand !  This  is  the  cause  of  thy  absence. 
Who  is  this— lady  ?" 

"  My  guest,"  was  the  brief,  cold  answer. 

"  Then  let  her  join  the  others." 

"She  is  not  here  at  thy  command." 

"  But  I  am  here  at  thy  desire." 

"  Then,  at  my  desire,  go  hence." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  came  for  thy  pleasure ;  I  remain  for  my 
own !"  cried  the  enraged  and  partly  intoxicated  Anca- 
ria, throwing  herself  upon  the  couch  in  an  attitude  as 
remarkable  for  its  grace  as  it  was  for  its  absence  of 
decorum. 

Marcus  looked  at  her  in  helpless  disgust.  Had  it 
been  a  man  who  had  dared  to  defy  him  thus,  he  could, 
and  probably  would,  have  thrown  him  bodily  from  the 
16  241 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

room,  but  with  a  woman — and  withal,  such  a  woman 
as  Ancaria — what  could  he  do  ? 

Mercia  was  anxious  only  to  be  gone,  and  she  pleaded, 
almost  tearfully,  to  Marcus — 

"  I  pray  thee,  let  me  return  to  my  prison !" 

"  Prison  ?"  echoed  Ancaria.  "  Prison  ?  Ah !  now  I 
know.  This,  then,  is  the  Christian  we  have  heard 
BO  much  about !  So,  this  is  the  witch  who  hath  en- 
chanted thee !"  Then  she  burst  forth  into  a  shout  of 
derisive,  half-tipsy  laughter  that  incensed  Marcus  still 
further.  "  Here's  sport  indeed !"  continued  the  furious 
woman.  Eunning  to  the  entrance  of  the  room,  she 
screamed  out  vehemently — "  Glabrio !  Daones !  Thea ! 
Dardanus !  Come  hither !  Come,  and  come  quickly ! 
Come,  and  learn  the  cause  of  our  dear  host's  desertion  ! 
Slaves  there !  bring  lights,  that  we  may  see  her,  and 
wine,  that  we  may  drink  to  her.  Come,  friends ! 
Come,  all  of  you !  Come !" 

Shrieking,  laughing,  staggering,  jeering,  the  whole 
of  the  semi-drunken  guests  who  were  able  to  stand  or 
move  from  the  table  came  flocking  into  the  room. 
"When  the  lights  were  lit,  they  saw  the  pure,  white 
figure  of  Mercia,  unconsciously  following  the  example 
of  her  divine  Master  in  her  sorrowful  pity  for  the 
misguided  beings  around  her.  She  stood  alone  and 
unfriended  amidst  all  the  glare  of  gaudy  colour,  glint 
of  jewels,  coarse  jesting,  crackling,  mirthless  laughter, 
reeling  women,  and  staggering  men.  Calmly  she 
awaited  the  orders  of  her  jailer.  With  eyes  uplifted, 
and  in  silent  prayer,  she  was  no  more  touched  by  the 
foulness  that  surrounded  her  than  is  the  Christian 
242 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

faith  by  the  dirt  that  may  bespatter  the  walls  of  one 
of  its  cathedrals. 

At  the  first  sight  of  her  beauty  and  unconscious 
innocence  a  slight  hush  fell  upon  the  revellers,  but  it 
was  but  momentary  ;  their  finer  faculties — such  as  they 
possessed — had  long  since  been  obscured  by  the  wine 
they  had  drunk,  and  their  tipsy  jeers,  jests,  and  laugh- 
ter went  on  as  before. 

"  Here's  new  sport,  friends  !"  shouted  Ancaria. 

"What  sport?"  queried  Glabrio,  who  had  not  yet 
caught  sight  of  Mercia.  "  Why  are  we  brought  hither  ? 
We  were  so  merry  yonder,  and  there's  no  one  sober 
save  myself.  Look  at  our  ess — essellent  Philodemus, 
already  in  his  second  drunk  !" 

"  Nay,  nay,"  piped  that  candid,  if  somewhat  feeble 
creature.  "  Not  my  second.  Let  us  be  honest — this 
is  my  third." 

"What  is  it  we  are Oh!  Ah!"  chuckled 

Glabrio,  as  he  observed  Mercia.  "  Now  I  see  exactly !" 
And,  noting  Ancaria's  blazing  cheeks  and  fiery  eyes,  he 
added  under  his  breath  to  Edonia,  "  Now  we  shall  see 
some  sport !" 

"  What  sport  ?"  asked  Gyrene. 

"  Look  yonder,"  answered  Glabrio,  indicating  Mercia. 

'*  And  who  is  she  ?  What  can  she  do  ?  A  panto- 
mime ?  A  dance  ?"  said  Gyrene. 

"  A  dance  ?"  cried  Daones.  "  What  dance  ?  Who  is 
she,  I  pray  ?  Why,  I  will  dance  her  for  my  life !" 
And  Daones  whirled  quickly  round,  and,  finishing, 
struck  an  attitude  at  which  those  sober  enough  to  do 
it,  applauded. 

243 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Who  is  the  girl  ?"  inquired  Julia. 

"  Who  ?"  sneeringly  replied  Ancaria.  "  Who  but  the 
Christian  ?" 

"  The  Christian  ?"  the  revellers  shouted.  "  Let  us 
see  her  !" 

"Ay,  pray  look  upon  her,  ladies,"  continued  Ancaria, 
"  and  learn  for  what  you  are  deserted.  This  is  the  en- 
chantress who  hath  bewitched  our  Marcus.  This  is  the 
Christian — this  piece  of  lifeless  marble  !  By  Venus  ! 
ladies,  we  must  learn  to  distil  the  charms  these  Chris- 
tians brew,  or  we  shall  be  left  loverless." 

"  Nay,"  lisped  Philodemus,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee, 
my  Ancaria."  Whereon  he  embraced  Julia. 

During  all  this  revilement  of  the  lovely  girl  Marcus 
stood  apart,  quiescent,  motionless.  His  first  natural 
instincts  were  to  rescue  Mercia  from  the  insults  levelled 
at  her,  but  his  anger,  fanned  by  his  wounded  self- 
respect,  betrayed  him  into  another  act  of  brutality. 
He  determined  to  humble  the  pride  of  this  coldly  con- 
temptuous Christian.  Let  her  suffer  a  little  indignity  ! 
It  would  do  her  no  harm.  He  would  see  that  it  did 
not  go  beyond  that.  Meanwhile,  a  glimpse  into  a  side 
of  life  different  to  that  in  which  she  had  been  schooled 
might  induce  her  to  think  a  little  more  leniently  of 
those  who  indulged  in  its  pleasures.  Let  her  see  that 
there  was  another,  merrier,  brighter  side  to  existence 
than  that  she  had  known.  No,  he  would  not  interfere 
yet.  Let  the  stream  of  banter  flow  on  ;  time  enough 
to  dam  or  divert  it  when  it  tended  to  injure  physically 
the  woman  who  was  the  innocent  cause  of  it. 

"  Well,  ladies,"  said  Ancaria,  tearing  in  pieces  the 
244 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

wreath  of  roses  she  had  girdled  about  her,  "  what  think 
you  ?  Is  this  the  star  that  is  to  outshine  us  all  ?" 

"  She  outshine  us  ?"  queried  Daones.  "  In  what,  I 
pray  ?  Can  she  sing  as  well,  or  dance  as  nimbly,  or 
pantomime  as  well  as  I  ?" 

"  Perchance  not,"  replied  Glabrio ;  "  but,"  with  an 
unctuous  smacking  of  his  lips,  "  she's  very  lovely." 

"  Lovely  ?"  laughed  Daones.  "  Perhaps.  But  I  care 
not  for  that  style  of  loveliness, — if  loveliness  it  be." 

"  Nor  I.     She  is  too  tall  for  my  taste,"  cried  Thea. 

"  And  too  cold  for  mine,"  said  the  sensuous  Julia. 

"  And  a  statue  hath  more  animation,"  exclaimed  the 
volatile  Mytelene. 

"  In  what  lies  her  attraction  for  such  a  man  as  Mar- 
cus ?"  asked  Daones. 

"  She  has  a  fresh  face,"  answered  Edonia. 

"  She  has  bewitched  him.  She  is  a  sorceress !"  said 
Ancaria  spitefully.  "They  say  these  Christians  can 
perform  miracles."  Then  the  angry  woman  stalked  up 
to  Mercia,  and,  with  arms  akimbo,  said  derisively, 
"  Perform  one  now." 

"  She  hath  performed  one  already,  if  she  hath  made 
Marcus  really  love  her,"  laughed  Daones. 

"Marcus  love  her?"  venomously  retorted  Ancaria. 
"  Oh,  yes,  for  an  hour — perchance  for  two — assuredly 
not  for  a  day.  Poor  fool !  the  cast-off  sandal  of  a  year 
ago  will  not  be  more  forgotten  than  she  will  be  to-mor- 
row. Marcus  love  her  ?  Oh,  yes !  with  a  love  that 
will  live  as  long  as  a  snowflake  in  the  noonday  sun." 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  this  sally,  and  Marcus, 
seizing  Ancaria  by  the  wrist,  hissed  in  her  ear — 

.245 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

"  Keep  thy  tongue  quiet,  mistress." 

"  Keep  ray  tongue  quiet  ?"  shrieked  the  courtesan. 
"  Was  it  for  that  you  brought  us  hither  ?"  Wrenching 
herself  from  the  grasp  of  Marcus,  and  turning  to  the 
guests,  she  added,  "Ladies,  here's  a  change  indeed! 
Marcus  would  have  us  still  our  tongues !" 

"  Impossible  !"  sapiently  murmured  Glabrio. 

"  Quite,"  retorted  Ancaria,  "  unless  he  first  seal  our 
lips."  And  she  offered  her  mouth  to  be  kissed.  But 
Marcus  turned  from  her. 

"His  present  seal  should  be  the  ass's  head,"  said  the 
lively  Daones ;  and  all  shouted— 

"  Ay,  ay !     Anakoites !" 

When  the  shouts  and  laughter  had  subsided,  Ancaria 
sprang  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  crying — 

"  Let  the  girl  join  us !  She  is  asleep — awaken  her ! 
Let  her  be  as  one  of  ourselves,  or  let  her  go.  She  hath 
spoiled  the  feast — ruined  our  pleasure.  What  dost 
thou  say,  friends  ?  Shall  I  sing  thee  a  song  of  love  ? 
A  new  one  ?" 

"Yea,  yea!"  all  the  guests  shouted.  And  Ancaria 
answered,  "  I'll  rouse  this  statue,  if  anyone  can.  Pass 
thou  the  wine."  And,  with  consummate  skill,  she  sang — 

"  "What  though  to-morrow  cometh  grisly  Death? 
To-day  the  roses  bloom,  the  wine  runs  red. 
Red  wine  to  red  lips,  hot  breath  to  hot  breath ! 
Love's  kiss  would  waken  me  e'en  were  I  dead. 

Elysium  is  but  fulfilled  desire, 

And  Hades  but  desire  still  unfulfilled. 

Then  let— then  let " 

246 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

The  singer  hesitated — tried  to  begin  again — then 
broke  down  utterly,  for,  far  above  the  tones  of  her 
voice,  rang  out  in  tones  of  devout  belief  and  supplica- 
tion the  hymn  of  the  imprisoned  Christians — 

"  Shepherd  of  souls  that  stumble  by  the  way, 
Pilot  of  vessels  storm-tossed  in  the  night, 
Healer  of  wounds,  for  help  to  thee  we  pray  ; 
Guide  thou  our  footsteps,  send  the  morning  light. 
Oh,  lead  us  home!" 

At  the  sound  of  the  beloved  words,  so  often  sung  by 
her  at  the  feet  of  her  parents  and  Favius  in  the  happy 
bygone  days,  Mercia,  whose  power  of  endurance  had 
been  waning,  lifted  her  head  and,  with  glowing  face  and 
glistening  eyes,  seemed  to  drink  in  renewed  life,  fresh 
hope,  new  strength,  under  this  appeal  to  the  Shep- 
herd. The  drunken  revellers,  like  foul,  noisome  reptiles, 
crouching  in  darkness,  suddenly  startled  by  a  flood  of 
sunshine,  shrank  back  into  uneasy  and,  to  them,  inexpli- 
cable silence.  Daones  was  the  first  to  recover  herself. 

"  Who  are  those  singers  ?" 

"  The  Christian  prisoners,"  replied  Glabrio. 

"This  girl's  associates?  Stop  them!"  screamed  An- 
caria. 

"  Stop  them !  stop  them !"  repeated  the  rest. 

"  They  chill,  they  freeze  me !"  shivered  Ancaria.  "  I 
cannot  sing  against  these  crazy  fanatics,  Marcus.  Send 
to  them  and  bid  them  cease." 

"  No,  indeed — not  I !"  cried  Marcus  sternly.  "  'Tis  a 
battle  of  the  gods— Christus  against  Pluto.  Let  the 
fight  rage  on !" 

247 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"We'll  drown  their  bowlings!  On  with  the  song!" 
shouted  the  guests. 

"  Ay.  Shall  I  be  beaten  by  these  wretches  ?"  said 
Ancaria.  And  again  she  essayed  to  sing  the  words — 

"  Elysium  is  but  fulfilled  desire, 
And  Hades — but  desire " 


Again,  in  its  simple  strength,  the  hymn  rose  above 
the  sensual  song  of  the  courtesan,  who  stopped,  glaring 
at  Mercia  for  a  moment,  and  then  cried  loudly — 

"  I  cannot — I  cannot  sing !" 

"By  Yenus!  I'm  freezing!  What  ails  me?"  said 
one  of  the  men. 

"  I  feel  that  I  could  weep,"  whimpered  one  of  the 
women. 

"  'Tis  this  girl's  witchcraft.  Smite  her !  smite  her ! 
smite  her !  She  is  a  sorceress !"  yelled  the  infuriated 
Ancaria. 

"  Make  her  drink  !"  exclaimed  Daones.  "  Give  her 
wine,  Glabrio." 

"Ay,  come,  drink,"  urged  Glabrio.  "Drink  and  be 
merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die." 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  did  Mercia  turn  and  look 
upon  them,  and,  with  a  simple  dignity  that  was 
majestic,  she  called  in  her  sweet,  clear  tones — 

"No!  to-morrow  we  live.  To-day  thou  art  dead  in 
unrighteousn  ess." 

"  Drink,  girl,  drink !"  they  shouted. 

"  I  will  not,"  replied  the  faithful  Mercia ;  "  and  woe 
unto  you  who  would  tempt  me,  for  ye  are  lost !  Ah, 
248 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

turn  from  the  ways  of  darkness — seek  the  light ;  'tis 
shining  there  to  guide  thee." 

Mereia  stood  with  arms  extended,  her  pure  face,  her 
white-clad  figure  standing  out  among  the  rest  of  the 
glittering,  sensual,  drunken  throng  like  a  messenger 
of  Heaven. 

"Stop  the  witch's  mouth!  Give  her  wine!"  cried 
Ancaria. 

"  Make  her  drink !"  shouted  the  others. 

"  I  have  said  I  will  not,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

Glabrio,  with  drunken  insistence,  exclaimed — 

"By  the  gods,  thou  shalt!"  And,  going  towards 
her,  he  would  have  forced  the  wine  upon  her,  had  not 
Marcus  suddenly  seized  him,  and,  hurling  the  easily 
yielding  Glabrio  in  one  direction  and  the  wine- cup  in 
another,  confronted  the  whole  of  the  assemblage  with 
angry  defiance,  saying — 

"  Let  no  man  touch  her !" 

"  A  pretty  host,  forsooth !"  exclaimed  Ancaria. 
"  Insult  us  for  this  new-found  toy — this  inanimate 
piece  of  bloodless  whiteness !  He  must  be  mad  !" 

"  Perchance  I  am  mad,  for  my  brain  is  reeling  and 
my  veins  run  fire !  Hence,  all  of  you !  You  are  not 
fit  to  breathe  the  same  air  with  her,  for  your  breath 
reeks  of  wine  and  in  your  kisses  lurks  the  pestilence, 
and  in  your  bartered  love  lies  ruin — misery — madness 
— despair  and  death !  Hence !  hence  !  hence  !  I  com- 
mand thee !" 

With  mirth  and  astonishment  on  the  part  of  some, 
and  indignation  on  that  of  others,  the  medley  crew  of 
patrician  men,  courtesans,  and  dancers  hurried  from 
249 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

the  room,  laughing,  scowling,  jeering,  and  cursing. 
While  the  sound  of  their  voices  could  be  heard  Marcus 
stood  still,  his  arms  tightly  folded  across  his  breast,  his 
gaze  fixed  upon  Mercia.  When  the  last  echo  of  the 
cries  of  the  tipsy  crowd  had  died  away  in  the  distance, 
he  spoke. 

"  See,  I  have  driven  those  who  reviled  thee  hence. 
Art  thou  content  ?" 

Mercia  saw  the  wine-inflamed  face,  the  bloodshot 
eyes  of  Marcus,  and  heard  the  hoarse  accents  in  which 
he  addressed  her,  and  she  trembled  with  apprehension. 
Controlling  her  voice  as  best  she  could,  she  answered — 

"  Now,  let  me  go  hence."  And  she  moved  towards 
the  door.  But  Marcus  barred  the  way.  He  was 
breathing  heavily ;  his  eyes  were  glaring  with  passion  ; 
his  chest  heaved ;  he  was  trembling  violently ;  his  fin- 
gers clutched  at  his  arms  until  the  nails  tore  the  flesh 
to  bleeding.  He  had  lost  all  control  over  himself;  the 
excitement  of  the  past  two  days,  the  want  of  food,  the 
wine,  his  lust,  anger,  wounded  self-esteem,  all  were  at 
work  within  him ;  his  brain  was  clouded ;  he  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  mad  desire  to  control  this  girl 
who  had  so  enthralled,  so  scorned  him. 

As  Mercia  stood  watching  him,  she  shuddered. 
Could  this  be  the  same  man  who,  but  a  few  hours  ago, 
was  so  full  of  gentleness  and  sympathy?  He  was 
transformed ;  all  trace  of  nobility,  even  manliness,  had 
left  his  face.  The  girl's  position  was  terrible  indeed, 
and  yet,  through  it  all,  she  loved  and  pitied  the  man 
with  all  her  heart.  After  a  moment,  he  cried,  in  hoarse 
rage  — 

250 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

"  Go  ?  No !  you  sorceress  or  witch  1  No,  you  beau- 
tiful statue — you  cold,  glittering  star!  You  have 
driven  them  hence,  but  you  remain.  Your  icy  chastity 
burns  into  my  heart !  I  never  knew  desire  until  I  knew 
you,  and,  if  your  touch  were  poison,  I'd  possess  you! 
If  death  lurked  in  your  kisses,  I'd  feast  upon  them ! 
Come  to  me !  come  to  me  !"  Bushing  to  her,  he  seized 
her  in  his  arms.  Struggling  with  his  greater  strength, 
Mercia  was  almost  breathless,  but  she  fought  him  still, 
exclaiming — 

"  For  shame !     Are  you  a  man  or  a  brute  ?" 

His  face,  burning  with  lust,  was  close  to  hers,  his 
hot  breath  upon  her  cheek,  his  eyes  blazing  as  he 
answered — 

"  Both !  All  the  brute  in  the  man  is  roused  by  your 
disdain — all  the  man  in  the  brute  is  fired  by  your  glo- 
rious beauty." 

Mercia  slipped  from  his  arms,  but  he  ran  swiftly  to 
the  door,  calling  loudly — 

"  Slaves,  enter !  Quick  !  Quench  those  lamps ! 
Fasten  the  doors  !  Let  no  one  enter — man  or  woman 
— without  my  orders !" 

Instantly  his  commands  were  obeyed,  and  before 
Mercia  had  exclaimed,  "Mercy!  Do  not  leave  me, 
men,  if  you  have  sisters,  mothers,  wives !"  they  had 
extinguished  the  lamps,  and  the  grinding  of  bolts  and 
locks  in  the  distant  doors  told  her  that  she  was  alone, 
— absolutely  alone  with  the  mad,  uncontrolled  being 
who  was  intent  upon  her  destruction. 

"When  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  sudden 
darkening  of  the  room,  she  saw  that  he  was  near  the 

251 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

door.  The  casement  was  but  a  few  feet  from  her — she 
rushed  towards  it,  intent  upon  throwing  herself  from 
it,  whatever  the  cost  to  limb  or  life.  But  Marcus  was 
too  quick  for  her,  and  dragged  her  back,  crying — 

"  No,  no ;  there  is  no  escape !  We  are  alone,  and  you 
are  mine — body  and  soul !" 

But  even  now  the  brave  girl's  faith  was  unshaken, 
and  she  answered — 

"  No,  you  cannot  defile  my  soul.  That  is  inviolate. 
He  who  gave  me  that  soul  will  keep  it  pure,  unstained ; 
and  unto  His  mercy  and  into  His  hands  I  commit  it." 

He  heard  the  words,  but  recked  not  of  the  meaning 
and,  still  holding  her  in  his  arms,  he  cried — 

"  No,  no ;  into  mine !  It  is  not  enough  that  you 
should  be  mine ;  I  must  have  your  very  soul !  Mercia, 
love  me,  and  thou  shalt  be  worshipped  as  never  woman 
was  worshipped  yet.  See,  here  I  grovel  at  your  feet," 
and,  as  he  said  this,  he  fell  on  the  floor,  clutching  her 
robes,  "  I  kiss  the  hem  of  your  garment !  Only  love 
me  !  I'll  load  you  with  gold — cover  your  beauty  with 
the  rarest  gems — only  love  me  !  I'll  give  thee  wealth, 
power,  empire — only  love  me  !" 

"  Mercy,  mercy !"  called  the  half-fainting  girl. 

"  Have  thou  mercy !  I  love  thee  so !  Have  mercy 
upon  that  love — upon  me !" 

"With  a  last  piteous  effort  of  waning  strength,  Mercia 
pushed  him  from  her  and  ran  towards  the  door.  What 
use?  It  was  locked,  and  she  could  only  beat  her  ten- 
der hands  vainly  upon  its  brazen  panels.  He  caught 
her  in  his  arms  once  more. 

"  Art  thou  man  or  devil  ?"  she  moaned. 
252 


SHE   HELD  THE  WOODEN   CROSS  ALOFT,  CRYING,   "A  SIGN  !  A  SIGN  !" 


MERCIA'S   PERIL 

"  Man  or  devil,  thou  shalt  love  me  !"  he  hissed  back, 
kissing  her  passionately. 

Her  senses  were  reeling,  her  strength  exhausted,  her 
voice  powerless.  The  earth  seemed  receding,  the 
marble  floor  appeared  to  rock  like  waves  in  a  storm ; 
utter  darkness  was  falling.  .  .  .  And  then — was  it  a 
miracle  that  happened  ?  The  darkened  room  was  il- 
lumined by  a  soft,  white  light;  the  hymn  of  the  Chris- 
tians rang  through  the  still  air  of  the  night — 

"  Shepherd  of  souls  that  stumble  by  the  way, 
Pilot  of  vessels  storm-tossed  in  the  night ; " 

A  tide  of  strength  superhuman  surged  through  her 
whole  being.  "With  a  swift  movement  she  threw  Marcus 
from  her  as  easily  as  though  the  strong  man  had  been 
a  weak  child ;  as  she  did  so,  she  held  the  wooden  cross, 
the  emblem  of  her  faith,  aloft,  crying  with  ecstatic 

j°y— 

"  A  sign  !  A  sign  !  The  Master  hath  spoken !  You 
cannot  harm  me  now !" 

Marcus  staggered  from  her,  trembling,  amazed, 
sobered,  and  sane,  all  his  anger,  lust,  passion,  gone  from 
him.  A  daughter  of  heaven,  an  angel  of  light,  this  ra- 
diant being  was  a  thing  to  worship,  not  to  profane. 
The  scales  had  fallen  from  his  eyes.  Virtue  was  not  a 
myth,  purity  not  a  delusion,  faith  not  a  pretence.  He 
fell  upon  his  knees  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  as 
a  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  the  voice 
of  Tigellinus  called — 

"Open,  in  the  name  of  Ca?sarl  Make  way,  slaves; 
open  the  door !" 

253 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

The  bolts  rolled  back,  the  locks  were  turned.  Tigel- 
linus,  followed  by  armed  guards,  and  servants  bearing 
torches,  swiftly  entered  the  room.  Holding  in  his  hand 
the  Emperor's  mandate,  and  showing  a  seal  set  in  a 
ring  upon  his  finger,  Tigellinus  exclaimed — 

"  Prefect,  by  Caesar's  command,  I  come  to  take  from 
your  custody  the  Christian  girl,  Mercia.  See  here  the 
mandate  of  the  Emperor,  and  this  his  signet." 

Mercia's  peril,  for  that  night  at  least,  had  passed. 


254 


CHAPTER    XVII 

MERCIANS   CONDEMNATION 

BEFORE  the  might  of  Nero's  mandate  Marcus  was 
helpless.  He  would  have  flung  himself  upon  Tigellinus 
and  his  guard  without  a  thought  of  the  consequence, 
but,  fresh  from  the  banquet-table,  he  was  unarmed ; 
the  soldiers,  armour-clad,  with  drawn  swords,  stood 
between  him  and  Mercia,  and  she  welcomed  them  as 
friends,  heaven-sent  to  succour  her. 

He  raved  in  his  impotency,  but  all  to  no  purpose — 
the  hour  of  Tigellinus  had  come.  The  game  had  been 
craftily  played ;  he  had  won.  The  force  and  cunning 
arrayed  against  Mercia  were  overpowering.  The 
subtle  cleverness  of  two  revengeful  women,  backed  by 
the  strongest  authority  in  Eome,  was  not  to  be  com- 
bated by  her  guilelessness  or  the  courage  and  impetu- 
osity of  Marcus.  He  begged  and  prayed  for  but  one 
word  from  her,  as  the  guards  drew  her  away.  She 
turned  for  a  moment,  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes,  and 
asked — 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have  of  me  ?" 

"  Forgiveness,"  he  murmured  in  broken  accenti. 

"  Ask  for  that  of  Him,"  replied  Mercia  sadly.  "  Him 
thou  hast  defied.  He  alone  can  grant  forgiveness." 

"  Thou  shalt  be  rescued — have  no  fear,"  cried  Mar- 
cus. 

255 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

"  Kescued  from  what  ?     What  should  I  fear  ?" 

"  Death." 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  death,  when  death  is  the  saviour 
from  sin.  There  is  no  more  to  say.  Sir,"  she  said, 
turning  to  Tigellinus,  "  I  pray  thee  take  me  hence." 

Giving  the  soldiers  the  signal  to  march,  Tigellinus, 
with  a  look  of  triumph,  but  without  a  single  word, 
left  the  palace  with  his  prisoner,  and  Marcus  was 
alone — alone  with  despair. 

Bitterly  he  reproached  himself  for  his  neglect  in  not 
eueing  to  Nero  for  her  pardon  before  the  quarrel  had 
gone  too  far  with  Tigellinus.  He  had  no  need  to  be 
told  that  her  re-arrest  by  Nero's  special  command 
meant  for  him  at  least  temporary  disfavour,  if  not  dis- 
grace, with  Csesar.  He  had  been  given  absolute 
authority  to  deal  with  the  Christians,  and  suddenly, 
without  hint  or  warning,  that  authority  had  been 
overridden  by  the  Emperor's  own  mandate  and  signet 
— a  proceeding  no  less  significant  than  it  was  un- 
usual. 

Little  he  cared  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  this ; 
he  could  too  easily  guess.  Berenice  had  carried  out 
her  threat,  had  gone  to  Nero,  told  him  all,  and  the 
result  was  the  re-arrest  of  Mercia.  He  had  no  hope 
of  saving  her — or  even  of  seeing  her  again — without 
the  intervention  of  Csesar  himself.  "Was  it  possible  to 
gain  that?  Nero  was  fickle,  changeable,  vacillating; 
but  behind  him  was  Poppaea.  Marcus  knew  full  well, 
by  intuition,  that  she  was,  with  Berenice,  the  instigator 
of  this  attack,  and  knowing  it,  he  felt  his  utter  help- 
lessness. The  whole  Court  was  against  him,  for  Nero, 
256 


MERCIA'S   CONDEMNATION 

Poppaea,  and  Tigellinus  were  the  Court.  The  rest  were 
nonentities,  to  be  swayed  by  every  whim  of  these  all- 
powerful  three. 

To  appeal  to  Tigellinus  were  surely  to  waste  time 
and  breath. 

To  solicit  the  help  of  Berenice  or  Poppsea  were  worse 
than  useless. 

There  remained  but  the  Emperor — what  hope  had 
he  of  success  with  him  ?  None.  The  task  was  hope- 
less; the  difficulties  insurmountable.  Still,  he  would 
try — must  try.  Mercia  should  not  be  done  to  death 
without  a  struggle  on  his  part  to  save  her.  He  would 
seek  Cassar  at  the  earliest  moment  on  the  morrow ; 
nothing  could  be  done  until  then.  Would  Nero  give 
him  audience  ?  Surely  he  dared  not  deny  him  that  ? 
But  Nero ! — who  could  rely  on  such  a  broken  reed  ? 
Still,  his  vacillation  told  for,  as  well  as  against,  Mercia. 
He  who  had  turned  and  changed  so  often,  might 
change  again. 

Thus  Marcus  argued  with  himself  until,  utterly 
exhausted,  he  flung  himself  upon  a  couch  and  waited 
for  the  dawn.  Sleep  refused  to  visit  him ;  he  was 
overwrought,  overstrung,  and  burning  with  fever. 
Alternately  he  tossed  upon  the  couch,  and  paced  the 
marble  floor.  The  night  seemed  never-ending.  There 
rung  in  his  ears  Mercia's  last  words,  "  Ask  forgiveness 
of  Him."  "Him"?  Whom  did  she  mean?  This 
Nazarene?  This  Jesus  she  had  told  him  of?  This 
lowly-born  martyr  ?  Could  he  pray  to  Him  ?  And,  if 
he  did,  what  then?  Could  He  hear?  Would  he 
answer?  What  was  that  that  Mercia  cried?  "A 
'7  257 


THE   SIGN    OF   THE   CROSS 

sign!  The  Master  hath  spoken!  He  is  here!  You 
cannot  harm  me  now !" 

Oh,  the  shame  of  it!  A  young,  innocent  girl  at  his 
mercy,  alone  and  helpless,  whom  every  instinct  of 
manhood  should  have  prompted  him  to  protect,  whom 
he  had  called  his  guest,  forced  to  defend  her  honour 
against  his  brutal  passion,  and  cry  upon  her  God  to 
save  her !  His  face  burned  with  the  hot  flush  of  shame 
that  swept  over  it.  He  was  racked  by  remorse  for 
what  he  had  done,  horrified  at  his  own  degradation. 

"  Pray  to  Him  for  forgiveness."  "  Him,  the  Master." 
Forgiveness  !  Sorely  he  needed  it ;  for  he  felt  he  could 
never  forgive  himself.  He  had  railed  against  the  vices 
of  his  late  guests,  driven  them  from  his  house  with 
scorn.  But  in  what  was  he  better  than  they  ?  They 
trafficked  with  vice — he  had  sought  to  violate  virtue. 
All  the  hideous  scene  came  back  upon  his  memory — 
every  cry  of  Mercia,  every  movement,  each  look  of 
horror  and  terror  that  had  flashed  into  her  face  and 
eyes  during  that  brief  struggle  with  him ;  and  her 
beauty,  innocence,  and  utter  helplessness  appealed  to 
his  sobered  senses  in  such  irresistible  force  and  with 
such  pathos  that  he  fell  upon  his  face  and  sobbed  with 
shame  and  regret.  Forgiveness!  Ah,  yes!  "K"aza- 
rene !  Jesus !  Master !  Thou  who  art  her  God,  help 
me  !  pity  me !  Forgive  me  !" 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Marcus  prayed,  and 
prayed  to  Him  who  never  turned  deaf  ears  to  the  call 
of  the  repentant  or  the  prayers  of  those  who  were 
heavily  laden  with  sorrow  or  distress. 

The  rosy  glintings  of  the  morning  shot  in  bright 
258 


MERCIA'S   CONDEMNATION 

flashes  through  the  casement,  to  find  Marcus  still  prone 
upon  the  floor.  His  long  vigil  had  brought  him  some 
composure,  but  no  peace.  His  course  of  action  was 
clear.  He  must  learn  whether  Mercia  and  her  associ- 
ates were  to  be  tried  or  executed  without  trial  by 
Nero's  mandate.  To-day  was  fixed  for  the  perform- 
ances in  the  Circus ;  scores,  yea,  hundreds  of  these 
Christians  were  to  be  butchered  in  public.  Ingenuity 
was  to  be  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  devise  new  means  of 
slaughter.  The  male  victims  were  to  be  burned,  cru- 
cified, devoured  by  wild  beasts ;  and  the  women  and 
girls  subjected  to  horrors  not  to  be  described. 

And  Mercia !  to  escape  from  him  only  to  encounter 
such  a  fate !  How  could  he  save  her  ?  For  save  her 
he  must. 

The  hours  crept  slowly  by ;  the  sun  had  risen,  shining 
in  glory  over  his  palace — over  the  dungeon  in  which 
she  was  again  imprisoned — over  the  Hall  of  Justice  in 
which  she  might  presently  be  tried — over  the  Amphi- 
theatre, where,  before  it  sank  again,  she  might  have 
met  a  shameful,  brutal  death. 

Oh,  how  slowly  the  moments  sped!  But  the  hour 
for  the  opening  of  the  Hall  of  Justice  came  at  last,  and 
the  first  man  to  pass  the  portals  on  that  eventful  day 
was  Marcus,  the  Prefect  of  Home. 

The  officers  of  the  Court  scarcely  recognised  him ; 
the  anguish  of  the  preceding  hours  had  so  changed  his 
look.  His  face  was  an  ashen  grey,  his  eyes  sunken 
and  bloodshot,  his  lips  colourless — he  seemed  to  have 
aged  in  a  night. 

On  inquiry  he  learned  that  all  the  prisoners  taken  at 

259 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

the  Grove  were  to  be  tried  together,  and  that  Mercia 
was  among  them.  There  was  no  need  to  tell  him  that, 
under  such  circumstances,  she  was  already  doomed. 
The  trial  would  be  the  merest  form.  And  so  it  proved. 

All  the  prisoners  were  assembled.  The  Praetor 
named  the  judices,  who  were  in  waiting  to  be  called, 
having  received  orders  to  be  in  attendance.  The  draw- 
ing of  lots  for  the  office  was  dispensed  with,  nor  were 
the  prisoners  permitted  to  challenge  any  of  the  jury. 

The  Praetor  and  the  Judex  Quaestionis  directly 
charged  the  accused,  Tigellinus  and  the  aedile  gave 
evidence  on  their  "  honour."  The  spy  was  sworn  in 
the  ordinary  way,  holding  in  his  right  hand  a  flint 
stone,  and  saying — 

"  iSi  sciens  fallo,  turn  me  Diespiter  salva  urbe  arceque 
bonis  ejiciat  ut  ego  hunc  lapidem"  The  evidence  was  to 
the  effect  that  the  accused  had  been  caught  in  the  act 
of  conspiring  against  the  Emperor  and  the  State,  and, 
furthermore,  of  practising  a  new  and  prohibited  relig- 
ion. Marcus  was  not  permitted  to  address  the  Court. 
By  his  faith  and  honour  he  was  sworn  as  a  witness. 
The  few  questions  asked  concerned  his  interruption  of 
the  punishment  that  Tigellinus  and  his  soldiers  were 
inflicting  on  the  unlawful  and  treasonable  assembly  in 
the  Grove.  None  of  the  prisoners  were  allowed  to 
speak  for  themselves.  No  advocates  appeared  for 
them.  The  law  for  the  giving  of  judgment  after  mid- 
day (post  meridiem  prcesenti)  was  ignored,  the  verdict 
given,  and  sentence  of  immediate  death,  in  manner  to 
be  decreed  by  the  beloved  Emperor,  instantly  pro- 
nounced, and  then  without  delay  the  prisoners  were 
260 


MERCIA'S   COMDEMNATION 

conducted,  chained  and  guarded,  to  the  dungeons  be- 
neath the  Amphitheatre. 

The  laws  were  suspended,  outraged,  and  defied  that 
the  arena  should  be  drenched,  and  the  vampire  appetite 
of  the  people  glutted  with  the  blood  of  the  prisoners. 

Marcus  had  stood  in  an  agony  of  grief  listening  to 
the  mock  trial.  His  eyes,  fixed  upon  the  pale,  calm 
face  of  Mercia,  had  vainly  sought  to  win  one  look 
from  her.  She  scarcely  listened  to  the  proceedings  ; 
her  arm  was  wound  about  the  fainting,  crippled  form 
of  Stephanus,  her  gaze  upturned  in  silent  abstraction. 
Only  once  did  she  turn  her  head — at  the  moment 
when  the  dread  death-sentence  was  pronounced.  Then 
she  gave  one  long,  earnest,  steady  look  straight  into 
the  eyes  of  Marcus,  and  in  that  glance  he  read  for- 
giveness and  fervent  exhortation  to  repent.  No 
bitterness  was  in  her  face,  no  shadow  of  reproach, — 
only  the  divine  light  of  martyrdom  cheerfully  to  be 
endured.  Marcus  shivered  as  one  with  an  ague  when 
he  saw  her  depart  to  her  doom,  and  dashing  from  the 
Hall  he  sprang  into  his  chariot,  and  drove  at  impetuous 
speed  to  the  palace  of  Nero. 


26l 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE   REMOKSE   OF   MAKCUS 

WITH  Marcus,  ever,  to  think  was  to  act.  His  resolve 
was  taken — his  plan  of  action  clear.  He  would 
demand  audience  of  Caesar,  and  plead  in  person  for 
the  life  of  Mercia.  Nothing  that  he  could  urge  or 
do  to  save  her  life  should  be  left  unsaid,  undone. 
Saved  she  must  be — the  mere  doubt  could  not  be 
tolerated. 

His  heart  almost  stopped  beating  at  the  very  thought 
of  such  a  possibility  as  Nero's  refusal  of  pardon.  It 
should  not  be.  He  had  many  claims  upon  the  Em- 
peror's regard,  and  the  life  of  this  one  girl  could  not 
be  denied  him.  If  Caesar  could  but  be  approached 
alone, — if  Poppaa  and  Tigellinus  were  but  absent, — he 
felt  assured  that  his  petition  would  be  granted.  But 
would  they  be  absent  ?  That  was  the  one  momentous 
question  he  asked  himself  as  he  entered  the  palace  and 
requested  audience  of  the  Emperor. 

Nero  was  holding  a  reception  in  one  of  the  smaller 
chambers,  thronged  by  a  crowd  of  courtiers  and  officers 
of  State.  He  was  reclining  on  a  throne  raised  upon 
a  marble  platform,  approached  by  marble  steps.  Over 
the  steps  and  platform  were  flung  magnificent  draperies ; 
cushions,  skins  of  tigers,  leopards,  and  wolves  were 
strewn  everywhere. 

262 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

Nero's  negro  guards,  heavily  armed,  stood  in  statu- 
esque silence  around  the  throne.  At  his  feet  knelt  the 
cup-bearer  and  taster,  the  officer  charged  with  the 
safety  of  his  monarch's  life,  his  preservative  from 
treachery  by  poison.  On  his  right  hand  sat  Poppaea, 
at  her  feet  was  Berenice.  Among  the  crowd  were 
officers  of  all  ranks  and  governors  of  the  provinces. 

Nero  fingered  on  the  table  by  his  side  a  huge 
programme  on  parchment  of  the  performances  in  the 
Circus  for  that  day.  As  the  officers  and  governors 
handed  in  their  reports,  he  listened  with  unconcealed 
impatience  to  the  details,  turning  with  absorption  to 
the  catalogue  of  the  sports,  and,  from  time  to  time  re- 
questing the  opinion  or  soliciting  the  approval  of  the 
Empress,  who  was  at  work,  assisted  by  Berenice,  upon 
the  embroidering  of  a  silken  scarf  for  the  protection 
of  Nero's  throat.  Of  this  he  always  took  the  most 
assiduous  care,  lest  his  voice  might  be  injured  by 
exposure. 

Ignoring  the  remarks  of  one  of  the  officers,  Nero 
said  to  the  Empress — 

"The  games  in  the  Circus  to-day,  Poppsea,  will 
eclipse  all  we  have  yet  seen.  Here's  sport  indeed. 
The  chariot  and  the  foot  races,  the  gladiators,  the 
Masque  of  Venus,  and  then  the  lions  and  tigers  and 
two  hundred  Christians!"  With  a  mirthless  chuckle 
of  enjoyment  he  beckoned  to  Metullus,  and  asked, 
"  The  beasts  have  been  well  starved,  Metullus  ?" 

"Ay,  Caesar,"  answered  Metullus. 

"  And  they  are  strong  and  fierce  ?"      Eagerly  and 
savagely  was  the  question  put. 
263 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"Eome  hath  never  seen  such  beasts,  Caesar." 

"  Good,  good !"  gloatingly  responded  Nero.  "  When 
the  sun  goes  down,  we'll  have  the  living  torches  all 
round  the  Amphitheatre,  at  a  distance  of  twenty 
paces.  Let  those  Christians  be  bound,  soaked  in  pitch 
and  oil,  and,  at  my  signal,  let  the  vermin  burn.  Yes, 
yes!  And  see  that  stakes  are  placed  beneath  their 
chins  that  they  do  not  too  easily  suffocate,  and  so  die 
too  soon.  Moreover,  that  way  I  can  the  better  see 
their  faces  as  they  roast — eh  ?" 

As  the  Emperor  lingered  lovingly  over  the  details  of 
the  torture,  Tigellinus  entered  and  knelt  at  his  feet. 

"  "Well,  Tigellinus,  well  ?"  queried  Nero  impatiently. 

"  The  girl  is  arrested,  as  thou  didst  command,  great 
CsBsar,"  said  the  Councillor,  with  a  look  of  triumph 
which  he  did  not  endeavour  to  conceal. 

"Good,  good!"  cried  Csesar  exultingly;  "make  a 
torch  of  her,  and  place  her  near  to  Marcus'  seat. 
They  say  she  was  cold  to  him — we'll  see  her  afire  to- 
night!  Ha,  ha!  What  said  he— eh?  What  said 
Marcus  ?" 

This  question,  though  eagerly  put  by  Nero,  was  ut- 
tered in  a  tone  suggestive  of  much  nervousness  and 
trepidation.  He  regarded  with  a  wholesome  dread  the 
courage  and  impetuosity  of  his  Prefect.  Tigellinus 
knew  this,  and  worked  upon  the  fear,  replying — 

"  He  raved  against  Eome,  the  laws  and  thee,  great 
Caesar." 

"Ah!  did  he  dare?"  exclaimed  Nero,  half  in  anger, 
half  in  terror. 

Poppsea  saw  the  intention  of  Tigellinus,  and  en- 
264 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

deavoured  to  minimise  the  effect  of  his  words  by 
soothingly  interposing — 

"Forgive  him  that,  Csesar.  This  choice  morsel  of 
his,  this  Christian  beauty,  has  been  snatched  from  his 
lips ;  he  may  rave  for  a  time,  and  not  without  some 
reason,  but  he  will  be  faithful." 

"  Dost  think  so — eh,  eh  ?"  tremblingly  questioned  the 
cowardly  tyrant. 

"  I  do  know  it,"  answered  Poppsea,  reassuring  by 
word  and  gesture  her  royal  husband,  who  breathed  a 
heavy  sigh  of  relief  as  he  said — 

"Well,  well,  I'm  glad.  We  cannot  well  afford  to 
part  with  Marcus."  Then,  with  renewed  ferocity,  he 
turned  to  Tigellinus  and  asked,  "  But  the  girl — eh  ? 
Did  she  scream  and  faint  and  plead  for  mercy  ?" 

"No,  Caesar;  she  was  calm,  and  said  that  she  was 
ready,"  answered  Tigellinus,  with  an  expression  of 
puzzled  bewilderment. 

Nero,  too,  was  at  a  loss. 

"  Strange,  eh  ? — the  obstinacy  of  these  fanatics,"  he 
muttered  reflectively.  "  They  die  so  calmly,  it  robs  the 
killing  of  half  the  joy."  Then,  more  hopefully,  he 
added,  "  Well,  well,  perhaps  some  of  the  rats  may 
squeak  to-day — eh  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha !"  And  in  grim  en- 
joyment of  his  own  fiendish  humour  he  broke  into  a 
laugh. 

He  was  revelling  in  the  anticipation  of  the  horrors 
he  was  to  witness,  of  the  torture  and  suffering  he  was 
about  to  inflict.  No  other  thought  ever  entered  his 
mind,  no  glimmer  of  pity  or  compassion  found  its  way 
into  his  heart.  On  the  anguish  of  others  he  battened 
265 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

and  thrived.  As  he  turned  once  more  to  his  pro- 
gramme of  the  "  sports,"  a  slave  entered  and  prostrated 
himself  on  the  ground,  crying — 

"  The  Prefect  Marcus  would  have  audience  of 
Caesar." 

"Eh,  eh?"  ejaculated  Caesar,  startled.  "Marcus? 
Audience?  What?  What?  Eh,  Poppaea?  We  will 
not  see  him  now — eh  ?  Not  now !" 

"  Better  see  him  at  once,  Caesar,  or  he  may  suspect 
that  thou  dost  fear  him,"  cunningly  suggested  Poppaea, 
who  was  anxious,  for  her  own  reasons,  to  see  Marcus 
once  again. 

"  Fear  him  ?"  cried  Caesar,  indignantly,  but  at  the 
same  time  trembling  violently.  "  Fear  him  ?  A  Nero 
fear  a  Marcus  ?  Preposterous !  Absurd !  A  god  does 
not  tremble  at  presence  of  any  mortal.  Admit  him," 
he  said  to  the  slave,  who  bowed,  and  with  many 
obeisances  retired  from  the  room. 

Nero  gazed  around  him,  anxious,  nervous,  frightened. 
At  his  feet  the  cup-bearer  still  knelt.  Beckoning  him 
to  pour  out  some  wine,  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his 
clammy  forehead.  As  the  wine  was  handed  to  him, 
his  hand  shook  so  violently  that  the  liquor  was  spilled 
upon  his  robes  and  the  floor.  Eagerly  he  raised  the 
cup  to  his  lips,  and  then,  with  a  new  fear,  a  fresh 
dread,  the  miserable  monster  looked  doubtfully  at  the 
wine,  not  daring  to  drink,  lest  it  should  be  poisoned. 

With  shaking  hands  he  gave  it  back  to  the  officer, 

with   a  gesture   of  command   that  it   should  first   be 

tasted  by  him.     Then  anxiously  he  waited,  watching 

its  effect,  and  assuring  himself  that  no  antidote  was 

266 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

taken  by  the  cup-bearer.  Finding  that  no  evil  had 
resulted  from  the  draught,  he  raised  the  vessel  to  his 
own  lips  and  greedily  drank  its  contents.  As  he  was 
handing-  back  the  goblet  to  the  officer,  Marcus  entered. 

Throwing  a  hasty  glance  round  the  room,  he  saw,  to 
his  despair,  that  Poppsea,  Berenice,  and  Tigellinus  were 
present,  and  the  chilling  silence  which  met  his  appear- 
ance struck  icy  forebodings  to  his  heart. 

Already  he  felt  that  his  errand  was  useless ;  the  boon 
he  had  come  to  crave  was  refused  before  he  uttered  it. 

From  the  quivering  face  of  Nero  to  the  impassive 
features  of  Poppsea,  from  the  guilty  consciousness  of 
the  look  of  Berenice  to  the  unconcealed  smile  of  vic- 
tory on  the  lips  of  Tigelliuus,  Marcus  turned,  and  his 
hopes  were  crushed. 

Mercia  must  die !  Still,  he  would  plead,  urge,  yea, 
threaten  even,  before  he  would  accept  the  defeat  that 
so  obviously  awaited  him. 

Kneeling  before  Csesar,  he  saluted  him,  saying — 

"Hail,  mighty  Csesar!"  Then,  with  another  obeis- 
ance to  the  Empress,  he  added,  "And  hail  to  thee, 
lady." 

Nero,  with  a  transparent  simulation  of  attention  to 
the  programme  of  the  Circus,  said,  with  a  coldness  that 
sounded  another  knell  to  the  hopes  of  Marcus — 

"  Well,  Prefect,  what  wouldst  thou  with  us  ?" 

"  Mercy,  great  Caesar,"  pleaded  Marcus. 

With  a  look  of  well-feigned  surprise,  Nero  asked — 

"  For  whom — eh  ?  For  whom  does  Marcus  crave 
uiercy?  Not  for  himself,  surely?  Our  trusted  Mar- 
cus hath  no  need  of  mercy,  having  done  no  wrong, 
267 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

neglected  no  duty?  Faithful  and  true,  our  Marcus 
hath  no  need  to  pray  for  mercy,  surely  ?" 

"No,  Caesar;  I  plead  not  for  myself,  but  for  an 
innocent  girl." 

"  Dost  thou  mean  Mercia,  the  Christian  ?"  questioned 
Caesar,  with  a  craftily  assumed  look  of  astonishment. 

"Yea,  great  Caesar,"  replied  Marcus,  noting  the 
look  in  Nero's  face  and  the  menacing  inflection  of  his 
voice. 

"Ah!  she  is  not  innocent,"  was  the  cold  and  curt 
reply,  and  Nero  turned  from  Marcus  with  studied 
indifference. 

At  this  intentional  slight  Marcus'  anger  flashed  into 
his  eyes,  but  he  curbed  his  rage  for  the  sake  of  the 
cause  he  had  come  to  plead,  and,  though  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  he  asked  submissively  enough  the  question — 

"  Of  what  is  she  guilty  ?" 

Nero  started  slightly  at  the  tone  of  Marcus'  voice, 
which,  though  respectful,  had  in  it  a  certain  ring  of 
determination  that  he  did  not  like.  After  a  pause,  he 
said — 

"  Guilty  ?  Thou  knowest  well.  She  is  accused  of 
being  a  Christian." 

"By  whom  is  she  accused,  Caesar?" 

"Well,  by "  He  was  about  to  mention  Bere- 
nice, but  a  warning  look  from  Poppaea  made  him  sub- 
stitute another  name.  He  continued,  "  By  Tigellinus 
and — others." 

"  The  others  being  Berenice  and ?"  Here  Mar- 
cus paused.  He  would  have  added  "Poppasa,"  but  he 
hesitated,  if  it  could  be  avoided,  to  add  to  her  enmity, 
268 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

and  refrained.  After  a  moment,  he  continued,  "  A 
jealous  woman  is  not  always  a  reliable  witness, 
Caesar." 

"Ah,  but  there  is  other  proof,"  exclaimed  Tigellinus, 
bowing  cringingly  to  Caesar  and  facing  Marcus.  "  Thou 
knowest,  Marcus,  she  was  captured  at  one  of  their 
secret  meetings,  caught  in  the  very  act  of " 

"  Act  of  what,  Tigellinus  ?"  demanded  Marcus  quietly 
but  sternly.  "Act  of  worship,  prayer,  and  praise? 
What  harm  is  there  in  these  ?  I  am  firmly  convinced 
that  Csesar  has  no  more  virtuous  subjects  in  all  his 
dominions  than  these  Christians." 

"  And  thou  hadst  to  fall  in  love  with  a  Christian  to 
gain  that  conviction — eh,  Marcus?"  asked  Poppsea, 
with  a  smile  of  contempt. 

Marcus  made  no  answer  to  this  sneer,  and  Nero 
said — 

"  Even  if  true,  their  virtue  is  hardly  a  recommenda- 
tion to  my  mercy.  Virtue  would  smother  half  the 
joys  and  pleasures  of  this  world."  And  he  leered  sen- 
sually into  the  face  of  his  Empress. 

"  Vice  hath  already  smothered  the  other  half,  Csesar," 
interposed  Marcus.  Nero  looked  for  a  moment  as 
though  he  would  resent  this  speech,  but,  changing  his 
mind,  he  said — 

"  Eh  ?  Well,  well,  but  these  Christians  are  gloomy, 
austere  fanatics  who  worship  a  wretched  Jew  whom 
Pontius  Pilate  crucified  between  two  thieves — eh  ?" 

To  this  Marcus  quietly  and  calmly  replied — 

"  And  testified  he  could  find  no  sin  in  Him." 

"  There  Pontius  was  wrong,"  angrily  retorted  Nero. 
269 


THE   SIGN    OF  THE   CROSS 

"  I  would  be  King  of  the  East,  and  they  set  up  this 
Nazarene  as  king." 

"Not  as  temporal  king,  Caesar,"  pleaded  Marcus. 

"  Yes,  as  temporal  king.  'Twas  testified  that  he  did 
endeavour  to  stir  up  the  people  of  Judea  to  revolt,  in 
order  that  he  might  be  proclaimed  King  of  the  Jews." 

"  'Twas  falsely  testified,  Caesar,  by  spies  and  inform- 
ers, bribed  by  Pontius  Pilatus  himself.  He  sought  no 
temporal  power,  but  preached  alone  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,"  urged  Marcus,  recalling  the  teachings  of 
Mercia,  "  and  bade  His  followers  render  unto  Caesar 
the  things  that  were  Caesar's,  but  unto  God  the  things 
that  were  God's.  Again  and  again  did  He  tell  the 
people  that  His  kingdom  was  not  of  earth." 

"  Eh  ?  Come,  enough  of  this !  I  am  Caesar !  I 
have  power  over  life  and  death — eh  ?  I  have  decided. 
This  Mercia  dies  with  the  others  this  very  day."  And 
again  Caesar  turned  away  from  Marcus. 

But  Marcus  was  not  to  be  denied.  "  Hear  me, 
Caesar,"  he  cried.  "  Thou  dost  know  me  to  be  faithful 
— and  thou  hast  many  flatterers,  but  few  friends — r-" 

"  How— how  ?     Eh  ?"  stuttered  Nero. 

"I  dare  to  tell  thee  truths,  Csesar,  that  others 
tremble  to  speak  of.  Around  thy  throne  are  many 
who  serve  for  greed — for  fear — but  scarcely  one  for 
love.  The  people  groan  beneath  the  burthen  of 
taxation — the  army  is  restless,  discontented — while 
the  families  of  those  whom  thou  hast  punished  hate 
thee." 

These  honest  truths  angered  and  alarmed  the  tjrant. 
He  knew  they  were  truths,  but  dared  not  admit  as 
270 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

much  even  to  himself.  He  turned  upon  Marcus  and, 
with  rage,  exclaimed — 

"By  Jupiter,  thou  art  going  too  far,  Marcus! 
Have  a  care " 

"Of  what,  Csesar?  Thine  anger?  Has  it  come  to 
this,  then,  that  to  be  faithful  to  thee  is  to  incur  thy 
displeasure,  thy  resentment  ?"  calmly  asked  Marcus. 

"  Nay,  but  to  insult  me  thus,"  petulantly  muttered 
Nero. 

Marcus  turned  to  Poppsea  and,  with  a  look  of  mean- 
ing that  almost  brought  a  blush  to  her  cheek,  said — 

"Lady,  I  appeal  to  thee.  Dost  thou  believe  me 
faithful  unto  Csesar?" 

Poppsea  understood  the  meaning  of  the  glance  that 
Marcus  had  given  her,  too  well.  Had  she  not  vainly 
endeavoured  herself  to  induce  Marcus  to  dishonour 
her  lord?  She  answered  quietly,  but  with  decision — 

"  I  know  that  thou  art  faithful,  Marcus." 

Then  once  more  Marcus  pleaded  with  Csesar,  cry- 
ing— 

"  The  hour  of  darkness  looms  close  to  thee,  Cassar, 
and  to  Eome.  In  that  dread  hour  at  least  one  faithful 
hand  to  guide  thee  and  protect  thee,  even  unto  death, 
shall  be  thine  if  thou  wilt  but  grant  me  this  maiden's 
life.  Csesar,  I  never  asked  of  thee  a  boon  before. 
Wilt  thou  refuse  this  little  thing — the  life  of  one  weak 
girl?" 

Csesar  was  troubled  and  sore  afraid.     He   looked 

round  at  the  crowd  of  courtiers  and   officers  of  the 

Court,  and  felt  in  his  heart  that,  of  the  whole  number, 

not  one  was  as  true  and  honest  as  the  man  now  plead- 

27I 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

ing  for  the  life  of  this  Christian  girl.  After  all,  what 
could  it  matter  whether  she  lived  or  died?  Why 
should  he  not  spare  her  ?  He  would !  He  turned  to 
the  Empress  and  said — 

"Poppsea,  let  us  grant  her  life — eh?  eh?  What 
sayest  thou?" 

But  Poppsea,  in  her  jealousy,  was  relentless,  and 
replied — 

"NO." 

Turning  from  her  to  Marcus,  Nero  cried — 

"  It  cannot  be,  Marcus.  The  whole  of  the  vile  horde 
are  not  only  enemies  to  Caesar,  but  enemies  to  the 
public  weal.  She  is  a  Christian,  and  she  must  die  with 
the  rest." 

Marcus  saw  that  Poppsea  had  influenced  Nero 
against  him,  and,  with  a  look  of  hatred  at  her,  he  ex- 
claimed— 

"  Christianity  is  not  a  crime,  great  Csesar." 

Poppsea  returned  the  look  Marcus  gave  her  with  one 
of  contempt,  as  she  sneered — 

"  Marcus  pleads  strongly.  Can  it  be  possible  that  he 
is  to  turn  Christian  too  ?" 

This  was  a  cruel  question  for  Marcus.  To  answer 
yes  was  to  seal  his  death-warrant — this  he  knew  ;  but 
he  felt  some  power  impelling  him  not  altogether  to 
deny  this  Christ,  and  he  answered — 

"  Lady,  I  am  almost  persuaded  to  follow  where  I  see 
such  angels  lead." 

At  this  the  Empress  laughed  in  derision,  but  he? 
laughter  did  not  conceal  her  anger.     With  an  affecta' 
tion  of  contemptuous  pity  she  said — 
272 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

"Poor  Marcus  I  Thou  art  very  much  in  love 
indeed  !" 

Her  sneer  moved  Marcus  to  make  the  fatal  avowal — 

"  With  all  my  heart  and  soul,  Empress." 

"  These  Christians  must  be  sorcerers,  in  truth,  so 
easily  to  enmesh  thee,  Marcus,"  angrily  exclaimed 
Poppaea. 

Marcus,  incensed  in  his  turn,  gave  full  rein  to  his 
tongue,  and,  fixing  on  the  Empress  a  look  of  the  most 
intense  scorn,  he  retorted — 

"Mercia's  sorceries  are  the  most  potent,  her  spells 
the  most  powerful  weaved  by  magician  since  the 
world  began — the  charm  of  innocent  and  virtuous 
womanhood." 

Poppaea  was  silenced.  She  coloured  violently  and 
then  turned  deadly  pale.  Berenice  sank  her  head  upon 
her  hands,  dreading  the  consequence  of  the  storm  she 
had  evoked,  while  the  courtiers  stared  in  amazement 
at  the  audacity  of  Marcus.  Nero  broke  the  temporary 
silence  by  saying — 

"  But  she  is  a  Christian." 

"Even  if  she  be,  give  me  her  life,  Caesar,"  implored 
Marcus.  "  It  is  so  small  a  thing  for  thee  to  grant — 
'twill  cost  thee  but  one  little  word,  and  that  one  little 
word  gives  me  a  world.  I  will  serve  thee  as  never 
man  served  thee  yet.  Give  me  her  life !  I  pray  thee, 
give  me  her  life !" 

Again  was  Nero  moved  to  grant  the' boon,  but  again 
did  Poppasa  restrain  him,  and  reluctantly  he  refused, 
answering — 

"  I  cannot,  Marcus." 

18  273 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE  CROSS 

With  a  vehemence  that  would  have  caused  the  im- 
mediate arrest  of  any  less  trusted  or  important  man 
than  he,  Marcus  cried — 

"Thou  canst,  Caesar!  Think! — have  I  ever  hesi- 
tated to  risk  either  treasure  or  life  in  thy  service  ?  To 
me  the  wish  of  Csesar  hath  been  law;  to  obey  that 
law  scores  of  these  Christians  have  suffered — wives 
have  been  torn  from  their  husbands — children  from 
their  fathers — and  the  arena  hath  been  swamped  with 
their  blood.  Until  now,  all  this  hath  seemed  just  and 
necessary,  even  if  harsh  and  cruel.  But  now,  this 
simple  girl  hath  opened  mine  eyes.  I  see  that  even  if 
sedition  and  rebellion  do  exist  in  the  Christian  ranks, 
they  are  not  Christian  deeds  j  for  Christianity  is  not 
murder,  lust,  treason,  or  sin  of  any  kind — it  is  love 
and  peace,  self-sacrifice  and  charity.  Csesar,  for  my 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  Eome,  for  the  sake  of  thine  own 
welfare,  give  me  this  girl's  life — only  her  life !" 

And,  with  clasped  hands  and  bowed  head,  Marcus 
threw  himself  in  supplication  at  Nero's  feet.  His 
agony  of  mind  was  terrible,  the  suspense  almost  beyond 
endurance. 

Every  look,  the  faintest  indication  of  relenting  on 
the  face  of  Csesar,  was  watched  and  at  once  checked 
by  Poppsea.  She  was  absolutely  merciless.  She  had 
sworn  to  Berenice  and  to  herself  that  Mercia  should 
die ;  even  though  she  earned  the  everlasting  hatred  of 
Marcus  he  should  never  possess  the  girl  for  whom  he 
had  shown  this  extraordinary  and  reckless  passion. 
Firmly  she  exclaimed — 

"Marcus,  you,  of  all  men,  know  that  these  Chris- 
274 


THE  REMORSE  OF   MARCUS 

tians  are  all  alike  condemned.  To  spare  one  and 
destroy  another  is  not  justice.  No  man  or  woman" — 
this  word  she  emphasised  strongly,  staring  straight  at 
Marcus ;  then,  after  a  slight  pause,  she  continued — "  or 
woman  can  profess  Christianity  in  Rome  and  live. 
The  decree  of  Csesar  hath  gone  forth." 

"Then,  must  she  die?"  hopelessly  asked  Marcus, 
with  a  hard,  cold  ring  in  his  voice. 

"Let  her  renounce,  publicly  renounce  her  faith — 
then  she  may  live,"  was  the  cunning  and  pitiless  re- 
joinder. 

At  this  alternative  Nero  clutched  eagerly.  That 
would  throw  the  onus  of  her  death  upon  the  girl  her- 
self. With  a  nod  of  approval  to  Poppaea,  he  said — 

"  Eh  ? — yes,  yes — then  she  may  live." 

"And  if  she  will  not?"  asked  Marcus. 

"  Then  let  her  die,  and  die  this  day." 

Marcus  made  a  gesture  of  entreaty,  but  Nero  waved 
him  aside  and  went  on — 

"  Csesar  hath  spoken.  Come,  friends,  come ;  the 
games  await  our  presence.  Let  us  to  the  arena.  "We'll 
have  rare  sport  to-day !  Ha,  ha,  ha !"  And,  leaning 
heavily  upon  the  arm  of  the  Empress,  he  gladly  left 
the  room,  followed  by  his  whole  Court,  Berenice  alone 
remaining,  unseen  by  Marcus. 

Marcus  was  frantic  with  anger  and  despair.  He 
knew  the  alternative  would  never  be  accepted  by  Mer- 
cia.  Eenounce  her  faith  ?  Mercia  renounce  her 
faith?  Never!  And  yet,  to  die!  Mercia  to  die — 
to-day!  She  must  not!  But  how  to  save  her?  She 
knew  no  fear,  and  would  be  faithful  even  unto  death. 

275 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

Mercia  and  death!  The  thought  was  horrible — and 
he  cursed  the  women  who  had  plotted  her  destruction. 

Berenice  watched  him  in  terror,  scarcely  venturing 
to  speak.  At  last  she  did  so,  breathing  softly  his 
name— 

"  Marcus." 

Swiftly  he  turned  upon  her,  and,  with  a  dangerous 
glitter  in  his  eyes,  he  cried — 

"  Ah !     Thou  art  here !     Art  thou  content  ?" 

"  With  what  ?" 

"  Content  with  the  evil  thou  hast  wrought  ?  Mercia 
is  to  die — and  die  this  day." 

"  'Tis  well,"  answered  Berenice. 

Marcus  seemed  scarce  to  comprehend,  and  he 
echoed — 

"  'Tis  well  ?    With  whom  is  it  well  ?" 

"  With  thee,  at  least,  it  should  be  well ;  when  she  is 
dead  thy  senses  may  return  to  thee." 

"When  she  is  dead?  When  Mercia  is  dead,  then 
Marcus  will  die  too,"  firmly  replied  Marcus. 

"What?" 

"  When  Mercia  is  dead — "  he  continued,  as  if  think- 
ing aloud,  "  methinks  the  world  will  lose  its  light ;  the 
flowers  will  bloom  no  more ;  no  more  the  birds  will 
sing ;  the  stars  and  moon  will  veil  their  beams  in  sor- 
row ;  the  glorious  dawn  will  never  come  again ;  the 
sun  will  set  in  darkness  everlasting,  when  Mercia  is 
dead." 

"Others  will  live,  though  Mercia  be  dead,"  pleaded 
Berenice  softly. 

"  Others  will  live  though  Mercia  be  dead  ?"  he  re- 
276 


THE  REMORSE  OF   MARCUS 

peated.  "  Hearken,  woman !  Not  one  of  those  who 
have  sought  her  death  shall  live  when  Mercia  is  dead 
— neither  thou,  nor  Tigellinus,  Licinius,  Poppaea, — no, 
nor  Nero  himself  shall  live  when  Mercia  is  dead !  Dost 
hear?  Dost  hear?"  He  was  frantic  with  rage  and 
desperation. 

"  Marcus,  thou  art  mad !  She  was  no  mate  for  thee," 
cried  Berenice. 

"  She  was  my  mate !"  he  exclaimed.  "  The  gods  or- 
dained it  so  from  the  beginning  of  all  time.  My  very 
mate ! — the  better  part  of  me,  that  killed  the  worser 
moiety,  lifted  my  soul  from  filth  and  degradation,  made 
me  abhor  evil  and  yearn  for  good,  opened  mine  eyes  to 
light  and  truth.  Woman,  Mercia  is  still  so  much  my 
mate,  so  much  the  very  breath  and  soul  of  me,  that 
when  she  dies  she  will  take  with  her  the  very  breath 
and  soul  whereby  I  live  1" 

This  served  to  enrage  Berenice  still  further.  All  her 
pity  was  gone,  and  she  cried — 

"  Then  let  her  die — and  die  thou  too !  I'd  sooner  see 
thee  dead  than  alive  with  Mercia." 

"  She  shall  not  die !"  exclaimed  Marcus  wildly.  "  She 
shall  not  die !  I  will  pluck  her  from  her  cell !  There 
are  no  guards — no  bars — no  laws — no  power  that  can 
keep  Mercia  from  me.  Tell  that  to  Nero,  and  tell  it 
now !  Tell  it !" 

He  moved  towards  her  threateningly,  but,  controlling 
himself,  he  cast  upon  her  a  look  of  unutterable  hatred 
and  strode  from  the  room. 

Berenice  was  alone.  This,  then,  was  the  end  of  all 
her  scheming  and  treachery.  She  had  not  parted  him 
277 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

from  Mercia  after  all ;  rather,  had  she  not  united  them 
to  all  eternity  in  the  bonds  of  death  ?  Her  punishment 
had  come.  Never  had  she  so  loved  Marcus  as  now ; 
his  courage,  manliness,  devotion,  recklessness  of  danger, 
self-sacrifice  in  the  interview  with  Nero,  had  moved 
her  profoundly. 

If  she  loved  him  before,  she  idolised  him  now,  and 
gladly  would  she  have  exchanged  her  wealth,  liberty, 
power  for  the  love  that  this  Christian  girl  had  aroused 
in  him.  Joyfully  would  she  meet  even  death  for  such 
a  prize.  What  now  was  left  to  live  for  ?  She  was 
constant — she  could  never  love  another.  The  world 
was  empty  to  hei',  her  heart  was  broken,  her  life  a 
void.  Death !  Death,  for  his  sake,  would  be  a  release 
gladly  to  be  welcomed. 

Slowly  and  sadly  she  returned  to  her  home.  She 
hardly  spoke  when  addressed  by  her  slaves,  but  retired 
to  her  private  rooms,  giving  orders  that  she  was  not  to 
be  disturbed  or  wakened,  for  she  needed  rest. 

Her  orders  were  obeyed ;  never  was  she  disturbed 
again. 

When,  alarmed  by  her  long  hours  of  silence,  the 
faithful  slave  crept  softly  into  the  room,  she  thought 
her  mistress  was  quietly  sleeping.  She  was  still 
attired  as  when  she  returned  home;  her  right  hand 
was  clutching  her  drapery,  her  left  lay  lightly  on  her 
breast.  When  that  hand  was  moved,  the  golden  and 
jewelled  handle  of  a  tiny  dagger  was  discovered ;  the 
point  of  that  little  weapon  was  sheathed  in  her  heart. 

Berenice,  the  haughty,  luckless,  passionate  beauty, 
was  calm  enough  now;  her  tempest-tossed  soul  had 
278 


THE   REMORSE   OF   MARCUS 

foundered  in  the  dark.  But  a  few  days  before  the 
world  had  seemed  so  golden  bright  to  her.  With 
wealth  exceeding  that  of  any  other  woman  in  Eome, 
beautiful  and  talented  beyond  the  common,  with  every 
desire  gratified,  every  wish  anticipated  (save  that 
without  which  all  the  rest  were  as  nought  to  her), 
with  apparently  nothing  to  step  between  her  and  a 
prolonged  and  happy  life, — there  she  was  lying  cold 
and  still,  done  to  death  by  her  own  hand,  self-mur- 
dered, rashly  gone  to  the  unknown,  wrecked  by  a 
love  despised.  Poor,  loving,  impetuous,  headstrong 
Berenice!  Not  all  thy  beauty  could  win  the  love 
that  was  thy  life,  nor  all  thy  wealth  purchase  the 
heart  that  made  up  thy  world.  May  the  All-Merciful 
show  mercy  unto  thee!  Thy  sin  was  love, — if  love 
can  e'er  be  sin, — and,  for  that  thou  didst  love  truly, 
may  He,  the  source  of  all  true  love,  grant  thee  His 
peace,  and  give  thee  indeed — rest. 


279 


CHAPTER    XIX 

A    KOMAN    FESTIVAL 

IT  was  a  festival  day  in  Eome.  Nero  had  decreed 
it. 

In  the  Circus  -was  to  be  given  a  performance  the 
like  of  which  had  never  before  been  witnessed.  All 
the  most  notable  gladiators,  singers,  and  pantomimists 
were  to  appear ;  but  the  greatest  attraction  expected 
was  the  promised  slaughtering  of  the  Christians.  The 
whole  city  was  excited  by  the  rumours  of  the  numbers 
doomed  to  die,  and  of  the  ferocity  of  the  beasts  they 
were  to  encounter.  The  public  appetite  was  whetted 
by  the  stories  circulated  of  the  new  devices  for  tor- 
turing and  murdering  the  prisoners,  and  all  who  could 
provide  the  means  or  spare  the  time  were  on  their  way 
to  the  arena. 

The  streets  were  thronged  with  the  expectant 
crowds.  Gaily  dressed  and  carrying  flowers,  women 
and  children  as  well  as  men  were  hurrying  on,  eager 
to  see  their  fellow-creatures  encounter  the  most  hor- 
rible and  shameful  deaths.  Among  the  number  was 
the  heartless  gadfly,  Dacia,  attended  by  the  ever-useful 
Philodemus.  Near  the  gates  of  the  arena  she  encoun- 
tered Glabrio,  who  saluted  her,  saying — 

"  Hail,  Dacia !     Whither  goest  thou  ?" 
280 


A  ROMAN   FESTIVAL 

"  To  the  Circus,  of  course.     Dost  thou  not  go  too  ?" 
inquired  Dacia,  dropping  her  fan,  which  was  immedi- 
ately recovered  and  returned  by  the  attentive  Philo- 
demus. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  I  doubt  it,"  answered  Glabrio, 
shaking  his  head  gravely. 

"Why?" 

"  "Well,  I  am  ever  tender-hearted,  and  this  slaughter- 
ing of  Christians  pleaseth  me  but  little." 

"  Art  growing  effeminate  in  thine  old  age,  Glabrio  ?" 

" Effeminate ?  By  Vulcan,  no !"  he  replied.  "It  is 
no  longer  feminine  to  pity  or  to  be  tender.  The  sexes 
are  changing — women  do  all  the  wooing  nowadays; 
men  are  no  longer  the  hunters,  they  are  the  hunted ! 
The  wounded  gladiator  looks  up  to  the  circles  for 
mercy,  and  'tis  the  women's  thumbs  that  are  turned 
for  his  death.  Bah !  There  is  nothing  left  for  us  poor 
men  but  the  wine-cup,  and  even  at  that  game  some  of 
the — ahem ! — weaker  sex  are  our  masters." 

"  All  the  better  for  thee.  Men  are  only  fit  to  be 
women's  slaves,"  said  Dacia.  And  Philodemus  nodded 
his  head  approvingly. 

"Ah!  Umph! — and  pretty  tame  puppies  they 
become  when  enslaved,  do  they  not?  Look  at  poor 
Philodemus — he  is  thy  slave.  I  had  hopes  of  him 
until  he  met  thee,  and  now ! — well,  I  have  done.  Get 
thee  a  silken  cord  and  tie  it  round  his  willing  neck, 
and  make  him  caper  as  thou  wilt.  I  have  done." 

"  Nay,  friend  Glabrio,  one  must  humour  the  weaker 
sex,"  lisped  the  complaisant  Philodemus. 

"  Weaker  ?     If  there  exists  aught  weaker  than  a 
281 


THE  SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

tame  man,  it  is  the  spider's  slender  thread  that  a  puff 
of  the  west  wind  bears  away,"  rejoined  G-labrio,  with 
a  look  of  regretful  regard  at  his  friend. 

"So  sour,  Glabrio?  Canst  get  no  woman  to  love 
thee  ?"  asked  Dacia. 

"  I  can  get  scores  to  say  they  do,  while  my  money 
doth  last.  Women  are  cheap  enough  in  Rome — which 
doth  remind  me  that  that  pretty  Christian,  Mercia, 
over  whom  Marcus  hath  lost  his  wits,  is  to  die  to-night. 
You  had  some  hand  in  her  arrest,  I  hear." 

"  Why  not  ?  She  was  in  the  way,"  said  Dacia,  with 
a  cheerful  smile. 

"  Whose  way  ?"  asked  Glabrio. 

"That  of  Berenice — and  we  women  do  sometimes 
help  each  other,"  laughed  Dacia,  little  guessing  that 
her  friend  was  lying  at  her  palace  dead  and  alone. 

"  Willingly,  to  pull  some  fairer  woman  down !  Poor 
Marcus !  Poor  Mercia !" 

"  Oh !  thy  head  is  sore  from  last  night's  drinking," 
good-humouredly  responded  Dacia.  "  Philodemus,  let 
us  leave  him,  for  to-day  he  is  not  even  amusing." 

"  Farewell,  friend  Glabrio,"  exclaimed  Philodemus ; 
and,  picking  up  a  rose  that  had  ,fallen  from  the  hair 
of  the  fair  Dacia,  he  accompanied  that  lady  to  the 
Circus. 

"  Well,  the  gods  keep  me  in  love  with  wine !" 
thought  Glabrio.  "  He  who  loves  wine  may  have 
his  senses  sometimes — he  who  loves  woman,  never! 
What  have  we  here?"  he  asked  mentally,  as  a  crowd 
came  surging  along  the  street,  following  an  officer  and 
a  guard  of  soldiers  who  were  dragging  with  them  the 
282 


A  ROMAN   FESTIVAL 

spy,  Servilius.  His  face  was  grey  with  fear,  his 
clothes  were  torn,  he  was  trembling  and  shrieking  in 
his  terror.  With  the  utmost  contempt,  the  officer  said 
to  him — 

"  Come  on,  thou  coward !" 

"  I  beg  of  thee  to  let  me  go !  I  am  no  Christian — I 
swear  by  all  the  gods !"  cried  Servilius. 

"  This  man  doth  swear  he  hath  seen  thee  at  a  score 
of  their  meetings,"  exclaimed  the  officer. 

The  man  alluded  to  was  his  accomplice,  Strabo,  who 
had  denounced  him,  after  a  quarrel  between  the  two 
as  to  the  share  Strabo  should  have  received  of  the 
blood-money  earned  by  the  denouncing  of  Favius  and 
Stephanus. 

"  But  as  a  spy.  I  went  to  denounce  them ;  I  am 
well  known  as  an  informer.  Let  me  go !  I  have  sent 
scores  of  Christians  to  their  deaths !  I  have  denounced 
hundreds !" 

"  Ah,  well,"  grimly  retorted  the  officer,  "  now  comes 
thy  turn.  Thou  wilt  feel  what  it  is  to  be  denounced 
thyself." 

"  Ah,  no,  no !  Spare  me,  good  Viturius !"  screamed 
the  wretched  coward.  "This  man  is  a  liar — he  hath 
accused  me  because  he  wanted  more  of  the  rewards 
than  I  could  give  him.  He  is  forsworn.  Eelease  me, 
and  I  will  get  thee  a  score  of  Christians  before  the  sun 
goes  down.  Have  mercy!"  And  the  spy  grovelled  in 
the  dust  at  the  officer's  feet. 

"  Bah !  you  sicken  me,  you  crawling  thing  1  you 
wolf  without  its  courage !  I  would  willingly  pay  to 
see  thee  meet  the  lions  in  the  Circus."  And,  with  an 

283 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

expression  of  deep  disgust,  he  threw  Servilius  from 
him. 

"  Spare  me  !     Mercy,  mercy  !"  entreated  Servilius. 

"  On  with  him !"  said  the  officer  to  the  guard. 

Now  the  shrieking,  trembling  Servilius  recognised 
Glabrio,  and,  with  the  strength  of  mad  terror,  he  threw 
off  the  guards  who  had  gripped  him,  and  flung  himself 
at  Glabrio' s  feet,  crying — 

"Ah,  good  Glabrio,  thou  knowest  me ;  thou  didst  see 
me  denounce  the  girl  Mercia,  and  the  old  man  Favius, 
when  thou  wert  with  the  lady  Dacia  at  her  house." 

"Did  I?  Well,  and  if  I  did,  what  then?"  drily 
questioned  Glabrio. 

"  Plead  for  me !     I  am  a  good  Eoman." 

"An  thou  art,  I  forswear  my  country,"  answered 
Glabrio,  with  great  disdain.  "  Now  hearken,  good  offi- 
cer. If  thou  wouldst  serve  me,  Rome,  Caesar,  and  Mar- 
cus, if  thou  wouldst  help  to  cleanse  this  somewhat  dirty 
world,  take  that  carrion  to  the  beasts ;  and  all  Eome 
will  thank  thee  for  the  deed.  Farewell !"  And  with 
a  gesture  of  the  most  profound  contempt,  Glabrio  de- 
parted. 

Frantic  with  terror,  Servilius  now  turned,  as  a  last 
resource,  to  his  late  friend  and  present  denouncer, 
crying — 

"  Strabo,  good  Strabo,  recall  thy  accusation  !  I  have 
money — thou  shalt  have  it  all." 

"  Nay,  I'll  not  go  back  on  my  word.  I  have  said 
thou  art  a  Christian,  and  I  will  abide  by  my  saying." 

"  On  with  him !  We  have  lingered  long  enough," 
commanded  the  officer. 

284 


A  ROMAN   FESTIVAL 

"  Mercy !  Kescue  me,  friends !  Mercy !  Do  not  let 
them  take  me !"  Tbus,  screaming,  struggling,  implor- 
ing, and  cursing,  the  guilty  wretch  went  to  the  death 
to  which  he  had  devoted  so  many  who  were  innocent. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  GATES  AJAR 

THE  dungeon  beneath  the  Amphitheatre,  in  which 
Mercia  and  her  companions  were  imprisoned,  was  a 
large,  gloomy  stone  vault,  destitute  of  furniture  of 
any  kind  save  a  rude,  wooden  bier  dragged  in  by  a 
jailer,  at  Mercia's  earnest  entreaty,  to  serve  as  a  couch 
for  the  suffering  Stephanus.  At  each  end  of  the  cell 
were  doors  leading  to  the  corridors.  In  the  centre, 
approached  by  a  few  stone  steps,  were  sliding  doors 
which  opened  into  the  arena.  They  were  of  iron,  and 
ran  in  oiled  grooves ;  when  opened,  the  arena  could  be 
seen,  and  with  it  a  section  of  the  first  maenianum  and 
its  occupants. 

Great  was  the  contrast  between  the  dark,  dank  cell 
and  the  sunlit  Circus,  crowded  with  eager,  gaily- 
dressed  patricians.  In  the  dungeon  were  scores  of 
men  and  women  waiting  for  the  signal  to  pass  forth  to 
a  cruel  and  certain  death ;  in  the  auditorium  was  a 
seething  mass  of  humanity,  thousands  upon  thousands 
impatiently  awaiting  their  coming  forth,  and  gloating 
already,  in  imagination,  upon  the  horrors  they  must 
undergo. 

The  roars  of  the  hungry  beasts  could  be  faintly 
heard  even  when  the  doors  were  closed ;  so  could  the 
286 


THE  GATES  AJAR 

equally  merciless  howls  of  the  bloodthirsty  popu- 
lace. 

At  intervals  the  trumpet-calls,  summoning  the  differ- 
ent performers,  rang  round  the  arena  and  warned  the 
martyrs  that  yet  another  item  of  the  entertainment 
had  been  concluded,  bringing  them  so  much  nearer  to 
their  share  in  the  amusement  of  the  day.  How  they 
were  to  die  had  not  been  told  to  them — only  this  they 
knew,  that  they  were  to  die,  and  that  every  endeavour 
would  be  made  to  make  their  deaths  as  horrible,  re- 
volting, and  cruel  as  possible.  They  knew,  too,  that 
not  a  vestige  of  sympathy  would  be  given  to  them, 
that  even  a  cup  of  water  was  denied  them.  They 
were  there  to  be  slaughtered  for  the  amusement  of 
Eome,  and  the  more  they  suffered,  the  greater  would 
be  the  enjoyment  of  the  audience.  If  given  to  the 
gladiators,  they  would  be  stabbed  to  death  amidst  the 
hisses  and  howls  of  the  people,  enraged  at  their  refusal 
to  defend  themselves,  for  had  not  their  Eedeemer 
enjoined  them  to  "pray  for  their  persecutors,  to  love 
them  that  hatefully  and  despitefully  used  them." 

Among  them  were  a  few  that  trembled  and  felt  sick 
with  physical  fear,  but  not  one  murmured.  Their 
eyes  were  mentally  fixed  upon  the  Cross,  and  His 
anguish,  His  sufferings,  His  endurance  for  their  sakes 
was  their  courage,  their  hope,  their  strength.  O 
wondrous  faith !  O  glorious  belief!  Forerunners  of 
freedom,  founders  of  civilisation  and  of  a  religion 
destined  to  endure  unto  the  end  of  all  things  earthly 
were  these  despised,  lowly  people,  who,  in  their  mar- 
tyrdom, made  the  world  wonder  what  could  this  faith 
287 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

be  that  gave  such  endurance  and  brought  such  peace. 
Hail  to  them,  the  noble  army  of  martyrs,  who  have  so 
long  entered  on  their  well-earned  rest ! 

Mercia  was  by  Stephanus,  exhorting  him  to  courage. 
Suddenly  a  blare  of  trumpets  smote  upon  their  ears. 
The  iron  doors  flew  back — a  roar  of  delight  was  heard 
from  the  assembled  multitudes  in  the  Amphitheatre. 
A  file  of  armoured  guards  lined  either  side  of  the  steps 
and  the  passage,  and  Tigellinus,  attended  by  the  aedile 
and  other  officers,  entered  the  cell.  At  a  gesture  given 
by  the  Councillor,  the  doors  were  closed.  In  harsh 
and  unfeeling  tones,  Tigellinus  exclaimed  to  the  pris- 
oners, who,  at  the  moment  of  his  entrance,  were  all 
kneeling  in  prayer — 

"Stand  up,  there!  Up,  you  vermin!  Up!" 
(Pointing  to  the  younger  men,  among  whom  was 
Melos)  "Stand  on  this  side,  you!  These  are  for  the 
gladiators,"  he  added  to  the  sedile. 

"They'll  not  give  the  gladiators  much  trouble — 
they're  a  puny  lot,"  sneered  that  officer. 

"  Stand  here,  you !"  cried  Tigellinus  to  the  older 
men.  "  These  old  rats  we'll  give  to  the  tigers  to  toy 
with.  These  women  to  the  lions,  with  the  boy  there." 
Then,  recognising  Mercia,  he  laughed  sardonically, 
saying,  "Ha!  thou  here?  This  is  the  wench  Marcus 
made  so  much  ado  about.  Where's  thy  lover,  girl? 
Is  he  not  here  to  save  thee  ?  Answer !" 

"  I  have  no  lover,"  was  the  quiet  and  dignified  answer. 

"  Marcus  Superbus — where  is  he  ?" 

"  I  do  nothing  know  of  him,"  replied  Mercia. 

But  Tigellinus  had  turned  to  an  officer  of  the  guards, 
288 


THE  GATES  AJAR 

asking  the  names  of  the  men,  and  writing  them  down 
upon  his  tablets. 

"Ah!  that  is  like  Marcus,"  said  Licinius,  approach- 
ing Mercia.  "  Little  he  cares  what  befalls  his  cast-off 
strumpets." 

This  was  more  than  the  devoted  Melos  could  bear, 
and  his  manliness  overcame  his  patience.  Springing 
forward  towards  Licinius,  he  cried — 

"  You  lie,  you  tyrant !     Unsay  those  words  1" 

In  his  wrath  he  would  have  struck  the  fedile,  but 
Mercia  imploringly  cried — 

"  Hush,  Melos !  Answer  not.  His  words  do  not 
move  me."  Her  calmness  angered  Licinius  still  more, 
and  he  sneeringly  exclaimed — 

"  No  ?  Well,  perhaps  the  flames— or  the  lions— will 
shake  thy  obstinacy.  Dost  know  'twill  be  either  the 
beasts  or  the  fire  for  thee  to-night?" 

Sweetly  and  resignedly  came  the  reply  from  Mer- 
cia— 

"  The  Master  will  be  with  me." 

Finding  his  shafts  were  powerless  to  move  Mercia, 
the  brutal  sedile  turned  to  the  shivering  Stephanus,  and 
growled  out — 

"  And  you,  you  young  scorpion !  Call  on  thy  God 
to  help  thee — thy  sun  sets  this  night  too." 

The  child  could  not  control  himself,  and  he  trembled 
violently ;  a  weakness  that  Licinius  noted  and  gloated 
over.  He  continued — 

"  Ah !     You  tremble— eh  ?" 

"He  will  not  tremble  when  the  hour  doth  come," 
said  Mercia,  enfolding  the  hapless  boy  in  her  arms. 
19  289 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

Again  there  was  a  loud  call  of  the  trumpets,  and 
Tigellinus  cried — 

"  The  gladiators  are  ready.     Open  the  doors !" 

The  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the  arena  beyond 
could  be  seen  by  the  prisoners,  flooded  with  golden 
sunshine. 

"  Now  then,  march !" 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause,  but,  almost 
before  it  could  be  realised,  Mercia's  clear,  sweet  voice 
rang  out  the  first  words  of  their  beloved  hymn — 

"  Shepherd  of  souls  that  stumble  by  the  way." 

Instantly  all  save  Stephanus  took  up  the  strain,  and, 
with  uplifted  eyes  and  undaunted  hearts,  these  noble 
martyrs  went  calmly  and  resignedly  through  the  dark 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  to  the  everlasting 
peace  that  awaited  them  beyond. 

Melos  was  the  last  to  leave.  He  turned  and  looked 
at  Mercia,  who,  pointing  to  Heaven,  encouraged  him  to 
endure. 

With  a  smile  of  love  that  transfigured  his  face,  he 
bowed  his  head,  as  if  in  obedience  to  her  injunctions, 
and  went  to  his  death. 

With  a  little  sob,  Mercia  sank  on  her  knees  by  the 
couch,  crying — 

"  O  Father,  give  them  strength  to  endure !" 

Stephanus  was  sobbing  violently.  Mercia  forgot 
her  own  grief,  and,  turning  to  him,  asked — 

"  Stephanus  what  is  this  ?" 

"I  am  sore  afraid,  Mercia,"  tremblingly  replied 
the  boy. 

290 


THE   GATES  AJAR 

"  I  am  so  young  to  die.  Think ! — to  die !  to  die 
lo-night!  to  leave  this  bright  and  beautiful  world 
to-night !" 

"  For  one  more  bright,  more  beautiful,"  was  the 
soothing  rejoinder,  "  where  pain  and  sorrow  is  not,  nor 
persecution,  nor  parting ;  where  happiness  is,  and 
purity,  and  holiness  evermore." 

But  the  boy  had  suffered  so  terribly  that  his  courage 
failed  him,  and  he  cried — 

"  But  the  pain,  Mercia !     The  pain !" 

"  Think  of  His  agony  who  died  for  thee,"  implored 
the  faithful  girl.  "Thou  wilt  not  faint  again.  Fix 
thine  eyes  on  the  Cross  when  the  hour  doth  come." 

"  Shall  I  dare  ?"  he  asked  tremblingly.  "  Have  I 
not  betrayed  you  all?"  And  he  broke  into  sobs  of 
remorse. 

In  gentle,  soothing  accents,  Mercia  said — 

"  Thy  soul  was  true ;  the  weak  body  only  proved 
false." 

"  Yes,  yes !  But,  Mercia,  I  am  a  coward — I  have 
not  thy  courage."  And  he  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

Mercia  was  wrung  to  the  heart  by  pity.  In  her 
grief  for  others  her  own  fate  was  forgotten ;  utterly 
unselfish,  her  every  thought  was  for  her  suffering 
companion.  Taking  Stephanus  in  her  arms  as  a 
tender  mother  might  take  her  child,  she  answered — 

"  My  courage  is  not  my  own.  It  comes  from  Him, 
the  Master.  Look  to  Him;  He  will  give  thee 
strength." 

Great  shouts  were  now  heard  from  the  arena. 
29I 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

Trumpets  sounded ;  the  doors  were  again  thrown 
open,  and  an  officer  entered  the  cell  followed  by  a 
file  of  soldiers.  With  a  gesture,  their  leader  signified 
that  Stephanus  was  to  accompany  him. 

The  poor  child  stood  half-dazed  with  terror,  but 
Mercia,  by  look  and  caress,  urged  him  to  be  calm. 
With  faltering  feet  he  made  for  the  arena ;  tottering 
and  hardly  conscious,  he  ascended  the  steps. 

As  he  passed  the  threshold,  the  scene  of  horror  which 
met  his  gaze  terrified  him  beyond  control,  and,  with  a 
piercing  shriek,  he  dashed  back  into  the  cell ;  and  fall- 
ing upon  his  knees  and  burying  his  face  in  Mercia's 
garments,  cried — 

"  Mercia,  Mercia,  I  cannot,  I  cannot !  Save  me ! 
Save  me !" 

Mercia  had  need  of  great  effort  to  retain  her  own 
self-control,  but  she  succeeded,  exclaiming — 

"  Stephanus,  Stephanus,  thou  wilt  not  falter  ?  Thou 
didst  ever  say  that  thou  didst  love  me.  If  that  is  true, 
by  all  the  love  thou  bearest  me,  by  all  the  love  I  bear 
thee — by  all  the  love  the  Master  bears  to  all,  be  true  ! 
Promise  that  thou  wilt  not  shrink  !  Promise !"  And 
the  noble  girl  held  the  shrinking  child  to  her  heart,  and 
looked  lovingly  and  imploringly  into  his  eyes. 

Her  courage  seemed  to  inspire  him  at  last,  and,  with 
a  deep  breath,  he  uttered — 

"  I  promise,  Mercia.  Ah !  the  dread,  the  fear  hath 
gone!  Lay  thy  hand  upon  my  heart,  Mercia;  'tis  all 
calm  now.  He  hath  come  to  guide  me — He  doth  walk 
beside  me.  I  see  the  Cross !  I  fear  nothing  now  !" 

Clenching  his  hands  and  crossing  them  rigidly  over 
292 


THE   GATES   AJAR 

his  breast,  the  boy  walked  firmly  to  the  door.  The 
grim,  stern  soldiers,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  horrors 
of  all  kinds,  felt  a  clutching  at  the  throat  as  the  child 
passed  out  to  his  horrible  death. 

As  Stephanus  appeared  in  the  arena,  there  went  up 
a  loud  shout  of  derision — he  looked  so  tiny  in  that  vast 
space.  But  he  heard  nothing — feared  nothing.  Un- 
flinchingly he  faced  those  thousands,  turning  only  once 
for  a  last  look  of  love  towards  Mercia ;  and,  with  a 
little  nod  of  assurance  to  her  of  his  unwavering  cour- 
age, he  passed  on,  and  the  doors  closed  behind  him, 
leaving  Mercia  alone  once  more. 


293 


CHAPTER    XXI 

MERCIA   SAVES   MARCUS 

MERCIA  sank  upon  her  knees,  with  her  face  pressed 
against  the  iron  doors.  She  was  quietly  sobbing,  but 
her  grief  was  not  for  herself.  Silently  she  prayed  to 
Him  to  give  her  strength  to  endure  to  the  end.  There 
were  none  with  her  to  solace  or  comfort  her ;  those 
who,  a  few  moments  ago,  had  filled  the  cell,  praying 
and  singing,  were  now  lying  dead  in  the  arena,  and 
their  souls  were  with  Him  in  paradise. 

So  the  noble-hearted  girl  fought  out  her  bitter  fight 
alone;  but  in  all  her  anguish,  Marcus  was  not  for- 
gotten. She  prayed  that  her  death  might  bring  him 
life,  that  her  example  might  uplift  him,  that  her  un- 
daunted faith  might  inspire  him  to  belief. 

Presently,  the  door  leading  to  the  corridor  was  un- 
barred. Two  officers  entered,  ushering  in  Marcus,  who 
started  on  finding  Mercia  alone.  Dismissing  the 
guards,  he  closed  the  door,  gazing  with  infinite  tender- 
ness at  the  white  figure  kneeling  at  the  gates.  Mer- 
cia, lost  in  thought,  had  not  heard  him  enter. 

For  a  time  Marcus  could  not  speak ;  his  heart  felt 
like  bursting  with  grief  for  this  beautiful  girl.  Here, 
in  this  loathsome  dungeon,  she  could  still  preserve  her 
courage,  and  could  still,  he  had  no  doubt,  pray  for  for- 
giveness for  her  persecutors.  Between  her  and  a 

294 


MERCIA   SAVES   MARCUS 

hideous  death  lay  only  a  few  fleeting  moments,  and 
such  shield  as  his  love  could  raise.  Hungrily  he 
stretched  out  his  arms  over  her,  proudly  willing  to 
give  all  he  possessed  in  the  world  to  shelter  that  frail 
girl  in  his  strong  arms  and  comfort  and  save  her. 
Thrice  he  essayed  to  speak,  but  could  not.  What  he 
would  say  choked  him.  At  last,  he  murmured  softly — 

"  Mercia !" 

At  that  moment  his  name  was  mingled  with  her 
prayers,  and  it  seemed  as  though  his  spirit  had  called 
her.  She  knew  nothing  of  his  coming  thither,  had  not 
deemed  it  possible  that  she  should  ever  see  him  again. 
Softly,  a  second  time,  he  called — 

"Mercia!" 

Then,  slowly,  she  rose,  as  one  awakening  from  a 
dream,  and  looked  around  her.  When  she  saw  that  he 
was  indeed  by  her  side,  her  heart  gave  a  mighty  bound 
that  robbed  her  of  her  power  to  speak  for  a  moment. 
When  she  recovered,  she  asked,  in  faltering  accents — 

"  What  would  you  with  me  ?" 

With  a  tender  gaze  and  in  earnest  tones,  he  replied — 

"  I  come  to  save  thee." 

"  To  save  me  ?    From  what  ?" 

"  From  death."  And  Marcus  looked  with  horror 
towards  the  entrance  to  the  arena. 

"How  canst  thou  save  me?" 

He  hesitated  ;  he  could  not  yet  summon  the  courage 
to  tell  her  that  her  life  depended  upon  her  apostasy. 
At  length  he  said,  evading  her  direct  question — 

"  I  have  knelt  to  Nero  for  thy  pardon." 

"  And  did  he  grant  it  ?"     Mercia  asked  the  question, 

295 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

but  she  had  no  hope  of  pardon ;  she  felt  that  she  was 
doomed. 

"  He  will  grant  it  upon  one  condition."  He  paused, 
and  Mercia  inquired — 

"What  is  that?" 

"That— that "  He  could  not  bring  himself  to 

ask  her  to  abjure  her  faith.  Mercia  waited,  and  then 
softly  asked — 

«  Well  ?" 

There  was  nothing  left  for  Marcus  but  to  tell  her 
the  truth.  Her  precious  life  must  be  saved,  no  matter 
what  the  cost ;  and  he  said — 

"  That  thou  dost  renounce  this  false  worship " 

"It  is  not  false!  It  is  true  and  everlasting!"  was 
Mercia's  calm  reply,  and  Marcus  felt  that  her  clear 
conviction  was  absolutely  untouched  by  his  assertions. 
Still  he  fought  for  her  life. 

"Everlasting?  Nothing  is  everlasting!  There  is 
no  after-life ;  the  end  is  here.  Men  come  and  go ;  they 
drink  their  little  cup  of  woe  or  happiness,  and  then 
sleep — the  sleep  that  knows  no  awakening." 

"  Art  thou  so  sure  of  that  ?  Ask  thyself,  are  there 
no  inward  monitors  that  silently  teach  thee  there  is  a 
life  to  come  ?" 

He  hesitated  to  reply  directly  to  this  question,  and 
evasively  exclaimed — 

"  All  men  have  wishes  for  a  life  to  come,  if  it  could 
better  this." 

"  It  will  better  this,  if  this  life  be  well-lived.  Hast 
thou  lived  well  ?" 

A  thousand  shameful  memories  of  his  past  life  swept 
296 


MERCIA   SAVES   MARCUS 

across  the  mind  of  Marcus,  and  his  eyes  fell  before 
her  questioning  gaze.  Had  he  lived  well  ?  He  could 
scarcely  bear  to  think  of  the  existence  he  had  passed. 
In  halting  accents,  he  murmured — 

"No.  Thou  hast  taught  me  that.  I  never  knew 
the  shame  of  sin  until  I  knew  thy  purity.  Ah! 
whence  comes  thy  wondrous  grace  ?" 

"  If  I  have  any  grace,  it  comes  from  Him  who  died 
on  Calvary's  Cross  that  grace  might  come  to  all." 

"  Thou  dost  believe  this  ?" 

"  I  do  believe  it  ?" 

"  But  thou  hast  no  proof." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mercia,  placing  her  hand  upon  her 
heart,  "  the  proof  is  here." 

"  Ah !"  he  argued,  "  thou  dost  believe  so  ?  All  men, 
all  nations  have  their  gods.  This  one  bows  down  to  a 
thing  of  stone,  and  calls  it  his  god ;  another  to  the  sun, 
and  calls  it  his  god.  A  god  of  brass — a  god  of  gold — 
a  god  of  wood!  Each  tells  himself  his  is  the  true 
God.  All  are  mistaken  ?" 

"  All  these  are  mistaken,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

"And  thou?  What  is  thy  God?  A  fantasy— a 
vision — a  superstition.  Wilt  thou  die  for  such  a 
thing?" 

"  I  will  die  for  my  Master  gladly." 

He  felt  this  was  no  exaggeration,  no  boast.  She 
meant  it,  and  would  sacrifice  herself  for  her  faith. 
But  he  could  not  endure  the  thought,  and  fervently  he 
pleaded  with  her — 

"  Mercia,  hear  me !     Thou  shalt  not  die !     I  cannot 
let  thee  go !     I  love  thee  so !     I  love  thee  so !" 
297 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"  Thou  hast  told  me  so  before,  and  wouldst  have  slain 
thy  soul  and  mine." 

"  I  grant  it — I  did  not  know  !  I  was  blind !  Now  I 
see  my  love  for  thee  is  love  indeed.  Forgive  me  that  I 
did  so  misjudge  thee  and  myself.  The  brute  is  dead 
in  me — the  man  is  living.  Thy  purity,  that  I  would 
have  smirched,  hath  cleansed  me.  Live,  Mercia,  live, 
and  be  my  wife  !"  And  he  sank  upon  his  knees  before 
this  simple  girl  with  all  the  reverence  a  man  might  feel 
for  a  saint  in  soul,  an  empress  in  worldly  rank. 

Mercia  was  deeply  moved.  The  man  she  loved  with 
her  whole  heart  loved  her,  and  with  a  reverence  and 
devotion  that  were  beyond  question  deep  and  sincere. 

"  Thy  wife  ?  Thy  wife,  in  very  truth  ?"  she  asked, 
with  a  little  sob  of  joy. 

"  In  very  truth  my  wife,  my  honoured  wife." 

"  Oh,  Marcus,  Marcus !"  murmured  Mercia.  All  was 
forgotten  save  her  joy  in  his  love.  She  had  long  since 
forgiven  him. 

"  Thou  wilt  be  my  wife  ?"  urged  Marcus. 

Then  came  the  thought  to  Mercia  of  the  price  she 
would  have  to  pay  for  her  earthly  happiness,  and 
tremblingly  she  asked — 

"  And  renounce  my  faith  ?" 

"  That  must  be,"  was  the  sad  reply. 

"That  can  never  be,"  exclaimed  Mercia,  and  the 
firmness  of  her  tone  struck  into  Marcus'  very  soul. 
But  still  he  pleaded — 

"  It  must  be !     Think,  Mercia,  think !" 

"There  is  no  need  to  think.  We  do  not  need  to 
think  to  breathe  while  we  have  life  ;  the  heart  beats, 
298 


MERCIA  SAVES   MARCUS 

the  blood  flows  through  our  veins  without  our  thought. 
God  hath  made  us  so.  So  I,  without  thought,  worship 
Him — I  need  no  thought  to  make  me  true  to  Him. 
He  hath  made  me  so ;  I  cannot  be  otherwise — would 
not  be  otherwise." 

"  If  thou  didst  love  me  ?" 

"  Hear  me,  Marcus.  I  know  not  how  or  whence  it 
came,  but  love  came  for  thee  when  first  I  saw  thee." 

"  Mercia !"  he  exclaimed,  springing  towards  her. 

"Nay,  stay  where  thou  art,  Marcus,  and  hear  me. 
This  love  I  speak  of  came — I  knew  not  whence  nor 
how,  then  ;  now,  I  know  it  came  from  Him  who  gave 
me  life.  I  received  it  joyfully  because  He  gave  it. 
Think  you  He  gave  it  to  tempt  me  to  betray  Him  ? 
Nay,  Marcus,  He  gave  it  to  me  to  uphold  and  strengthen 
me.  The  world  has  passed  away  from  me,  and  as  on 
the  threshold  of  the  other  life  all  worldly  thoughts  are 
left  behind,  and  all  wordly  things,  I  have  no  shame  in 
telling  thee  that  I  love  thee  .  .  .  next  to  Him." 

"  And  thou  wilt  live  ?"  he  burst  forth  passionately. 

"  I  will  be  true  to  Him." 

"  Thou  wilt  live  ?" 

"  I  will  not  deny  Him  who  died  for  me." 

"  Mercia,  if  thy  God  exists,  He  made  us  both,  the 
one  for  the  other.  Hearken !  I  am  rich  beyond 
riches — I  have  power,  skill,  strength ;  with  these,  the 
world  would  be  my  slave,  my  vassal.  Nero  is  hated, 
loathed — is  tottering  on  his  throne.  I  have  friends 
in  plenty  who  would  help  me — the  throne  of  Caesar 
might  be  mine,  and  thou  shalt  share  it  with  me,  if 
thou  wilt  but  live.  The  crown  of  an  Empress  shall 
299 


THE   SIGN   OF   THE   CROSS 

deck  that  lovely  head,  if  thou  wilt  but  live — only  con- 
sent to  live !" 

"  My  crown  is  not  of  earth,  Marcus ;  it  awaits  me 
there."  She  pointed  heavenward.  His  arguments 
had  moved  her  deeply,  but  had  not  shaken  her  resolve. 
She  was  filled  with  a  divine  strength  that  nothing 
could  weaken,  much  less  destroy.  Life  with  him,  as 
his  wife,  would  excel  all  other  earthly  bribes ;  but  not 
even  for  that  would  she  betray  her  Master. 

"  Mercia,  in  pity ! — by  thy  love  for  me,  and  by  my 
love  for  thee,  live !  Live  for  me  and  for  my  love,  1 
pray  thee !  Do  not  leave  me !"  And  the  strong, 
fierce  man  sobbed  aloud  in  his  agony. 

With  infinite  love  and  tenderness  in  her  tones, 
Mercia  cried — 

"  I  love  thee,  Marcus,  but  I  must  leave  thee — it  is 
His  will  that  I  do — to  go  to  Him." 

But  he  exclaimed  passionately — 

"  I  cannot  part  from  thee  and  live,  Mercia !  I  have, 
to  save  thy  precious  life,  argued  and  spoken  against 
thy  faith,  thy  God;  but,  to  speak  truth  to  thee,  I 
have  been  sorely  troubled  since  first  I  saw  thee. 
Strange  yearnings  of  the  spirit  come  in  the  lonely 
watches  of  the  night;  I  battle  with  them,  but  they 
will  not  yield.  I  tremble  with  strange  fears,  strange 
thoughts,  strange  hopes.  If  thy  faith  be  true,  what  is 
this  world  ? — a  little  tarrying-place,  a  tiny  bridge  be- 
tween two  vast  eternities,  that  from  which  we  have  trav- 
elled— that  towards  which  we  go.  Oh,  but  to  know ! 
How  can  I  know,  Mercia?  Teach  me  how  to  know! 
And  teach  me  how  to  keep  thee  ever  by  my  side." 
300 


MERCIA  SAVES   MARCUS 

Her  sweet  face  was  uplifted,  the  pure  soul  shining 
through  it,  lighting  it  with  a  heavenly  glow,  as  she 
answered — 

"  Look  to  the  Cross,  and  pray,  '  Help  thou  my 
unbelief!' " 

"  But  to  keep  thee  by  my  side  ?"  he  pleaded  in 
broken  accents. 

"  Give  up  all  that  thou  hast,  and  follow  me,"  replied 
Mercia  in  the  words  of  her  divine  Master. 

"  Follow  thee  ?  Yea,  but  whither  ?"  was  the  earnest 
question. 

"  To  the  better  land — there,  where  He  waits  for  us, 
with  outstretched  arms,  ready  to  pardon,  eager  to 
welcome." 

And  Marcus,  remembering  his  wasted  life,  his  mis- 
spent youth,  wonderingly,  fearfully,  anxiously  asked — 

"  Would  He  welcome  even  me  ?" 

"  Yea,  even  thee,  Marcus,"  was  the  answer  of  Faith. 

Now  there  sounded  on  their  ears  another  call  from 
the  trumpets.  The  brazen  doors  slid  back,  the  guards 
entered,  followed  this  time  by  Tigellinus.  Nero  had 
deputed  him  to  personally  receive  the  answer  that 
was  to  decide  Mercia's  fate.  Would  she  live  or  die  ? 
The  Empress,  seated  in  the  Imperial  box,  watching 
the  horrible  sports,  was  tremblingly  anxious  to  learn 
the  girl's  resolve.  How  would  she  decide?  Would 
she  abjure  her  faith  and  live  for  Marcus — or  remain 
steadfast  and  die  ?  Die  to  leave  Marcus  free ! 

Sternly,  impassively,  Tigellinus   advanced   towards 
Mercia,  who  stood  calmly  awaiting  his  question.     In 
harsh  accents  it  came,  addressed  to  Marcus — 
3OI 


THE   SIGN   OF  THE   CROSS 

"Prefect,  the  hour  is  come.  Caesar  would  know 
this  maid's  decision.  Doth  she  renounce  Christus  and 
live,  or  cling  to  Him  and  die?"  After  a  moment's 
pause,  he  added,  "  Answer." 

Turning  towards  her,  Marcus,  with  piteous  entreaty 
in  his  voice,  murmured — 

"  Mercia !" 

"  Answer." 

Now,  in  clear,  steady  tones,  quiet  but  deeply  mov- 
ing, at  least  to  one  hearer  in  the  gloomy  prison,  Mercia 
answered — 

"  I  cling  to  Him,  and  die." 

Then  she  turned  to  the  man  she  loved  so  truly ;  at 
thought  of  him  she  trembled  a  little,  and  her  voice  was 
all  quivering  with  her  held-back  tears,  as  she  softly 
sighed — 

"  Farewell,  Marcus !" 

Marcus,  for  a  moment,  answered  not.  A  fierce  battle 
was  raging  in  his  soul.  What  was  he  to  do  ?  Let  her 
fare  forth  to  her  death  alone  ?  Abandon  that  brave, 
true  heart  in  its  last  brief  struggle?  No!  And  yet, 
what  was  left  him  ?  He  turned  and  looked  upon  her, 
and,  with  the  swiftness  of  the  lightning's  flash,  the 
light  of  conviction  illumined  his  soul.  Her  belief,  her 
faith,  enwrapped  him  as  with  a  garment.  Doubt  died, 
hope  sprang  to  his  heart !  A  rush  of  peace  encom- 
passed the  whole  of  his  being.  He  had  decided ! 

"  Farewell  ?  No,  not  '  Farewell !'  Death  cannot 
part  us.  I,  too,  am  ready !  My  lingering  doubts  are 
dead — the  light  hath  come !" 


302 


MERCIA   SAVES   MARCUS 

Then,  taking  Mercia's  dear  hand  in  his,  he  turned  to 
Tigellinus,  saying — 

"  Keturn  to  Caesar ;  tell  him  Christus  hath  triumphed. 
Marcus,  too,  is  a  Christian!"  Bending  upon  Mercia  a 
gaze  of  pure,  ineffable,  holy  love,  and  drawing  her 
closer  to  him,  he  cried,  "  Come,  my  bride!" 

"  My  bridegroom !"  answered  Mercia,  returning  his 
gaze  with  one  as  rapt  and  unworldly. 

He,  still  clasping  her  willing  hand,  continued — 

"  Thus,  hand  in  hand,  we  go  to  our  bridal !  There 
is  no  death  for  us,  for  Christus  hath  triumphed  over 
death !  Our  love  will  give  us  victory  over  the  grave. 
Come  thou,  my  Mercia,  my  bride  indeed — come  to  the 
Light  beyond !" 

His  face  shone  with  the  same  glorious  radiance  that 
had  transfigured  the  features  of  Mercia.  And  thus, 
hand  in  hand,  those  two  went  calmly  forth  to  the 
sacrificial  altar,  where  they  were  made  one  indeed — 
united  in  bonds  never  to  be  broken ;  never,  through  all 
the  vast  mystery  of  eternity — bonds  forged  in  the 
heart,  riveted  by  sorrow,  sanctified  by  faith,  blessed  by 
belief,  and  glorified  by  His  presence  who  had  promised 
to  them,  even  as  He  had  promised  to  the  penitent 
thief,  dying  on  the  cross  beside  Him — 

"Verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  to-morrow  shalt  thou  be 
with  Me  in  Paradise." 


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characters  in  recent  fiction." 

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"  Mrs.  Pelton  has  bestowed  her  best  care  upon  the  Baron, 
and  we  are  attracted  to  him  from  the  outset." 

Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

"  Mrs.  Pelton  has  produced  a  good  novel  which  will  ap- 
peal to  all  who  like  a  good  delineation  of  American  life 
as  well  as  a  beautiful  love  story.  The  Baron  is  a  new 
character  in  our  fiction  and  well  wrought  out." 

Boston  Transcript. 

"  It  is  a  straightforward,  wholesome  love  story,  told  with 
a  winning  admixture  of  simplicity  and  savoir  faire.  .  .  . 
The  girl  who  would  not  lose  her  heart  to  Baron  Fried- 
rich  von  Rittenheim  must  have  something  the  matter 
with  that  organ." 

The  Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  Baron  von  Rittenheim,  hero,  lover,  and  quaintly 
courteous  gentleman,  is  the  character  of  greatest  inter- 
est. The  reader  watches  with  eagerness  the  history  of 
this  self-made  exile  from  the  fatherland,  from  the  time 
when  he  comes  to  North  Carolina,  saddened  and  in 
great  poverty,  until  he  finally  wins  his  way  from  weak- 
ness to  strength." 

»»  :  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company  :  n»tudeipi>u 


At  the  Time  Appointed 

By  A.  MAYNARD   BARBOUR 

Colored  Frontispiece  by  Marchand    -    -     Postpaid,  §1.50 

The  Washington  Post. 

"A  good  mystery  that  stimulates  the  imagination  and 
excites  the  deepest  interest." 

Doylestown  Intelligencer. 

"  A  volume  that  once  started  will  be  read  through  to  the 
the  end.  It  has  thrills  galore,  unexpected  situations, 
mysteries  enough — in  fact,  it's  the  real  thing." 

St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

"A.  study  in  character,  and  a  very  unusual,  original 
love  story." 

Pittsburg  Dispatch. 

"  A  stirring  and  dramatic  love  story." 

By  same  Author 

That  Mainw&ring  Affair 

Illustrated.     Postpaid.  Sl.50 

New  York  Life. 

"  Possibly  in  a  detective  story  the  main  object  is  to  thrill. 
If  so,  '  That  Mainwaring  Affair'  is  all  right.  The  thrill 
is  there,  full  measure,  pressed  down  and  running  over." 

New  York  Town  Topics. 

"  The  book  that  reminds  one  of  Anna  Katherine  Green 
in  her  palmiest  days.  .  .  .  Keeps  the  reader  on  the 
alert,  defies  the  efforts  of  those  who  read  backwards, 
deserves  the  applause  of  all  who  like  mystery." 

Denver  News. 

"The  reader  will  be  a  good  guesser,  indeed,  if  he  solves 
this  mystery  before  the  author  does  it  for  him.  A  pleas- 
ant love  interest  runs  through  the  pages." 

:  J.  B.  Lippiivcott  Company  : 


A  SEQUENCE   IN    HEARTS 

BY  MARY   MOSS. 

Author  of"  Fruit  Out  of  Season,"  "Julian  Meldohla." 
i2mo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Miss  Moss  sees  life  as  a  sunny  comedy 
and  tells  of  it  with  cheerful  relish.  The 
characters  are  all  human.  The  story  is 
sparkling  with  vivacity  and  good  humor." 
— Pittsburg  Commercial  Gazette. 

"  The  characters  are  well  drawn  and  there  is 
plenty  of  humor  and  a  great  deal  of  satire  fur- 
nished by  Cousin  Romola." — Worcester  Spy. 

"A  love  story  of  to-day  marked  by  un- 
usually clever  character  drawing  and  a  fund 
of  quiet  humor  and  sharp  satire." — Trenton 
Times. 

"A  cleverly  written  and  thoroughly  inter- 
esting story  of  the  present  day." — Chicago 
Tribune. 

"The  book  is  full  of  vivid  touches,  showing 
a  shrewd  analysis  of  character,  a  fine  kind  of 
humor  as  an  underdrift,  and  a  cheerful  tone 
brightens  up  the  tragic  atmosphere." — Syra- 
cuse Herald. 

11  Decidedly  clever,  and  well  worth  reading." 
— N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 


J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


THE  ISSUE 

By  GEORGE    MORGAN 

With  frontispiece  and  five  drawings  by  GEORGE  A.   WILLIAMS 
12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50 


"By  long  odds  the  most  striking  literary  event  of  the 
year." — Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  'The  Issue'  is  one  of  the  best  novels  of  its  period." 
— Baltimore  Sun. 

"Mr.  Morgan  has  lifted  the  battlefields  of  the  South 
from  their  provincial  setting  and  marked  them  on  the  great 
war  map  of  the  world. ' '  — New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  It  has  a  wide  sweep.  It  is  full  of  vigorous  movement, 
of  vivid,  stirring  pictures.  Its  turns  and  phrases  are  sur- 
prising, startling.  It  will  gratify  and  satisfy  the  reader." — 
New  York  Sun. 

"A  remarkably  clear,  just,  and  at  the  same  time  enter- 
taining pen-picture  of  the  most  momentous  period  in  Ameri- 
can history.  A  book  to  make  one  think.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  substantial  and  worthy  efforts  of  the  year.  The  most 
striking  work  of  its  type  extant.  Here  is  a  novel  of  Ameri- 
can life  that  is  really  worth  while." — Philadelphia  Record. 

"Such  novels  as  'The  Issue'  are  rare  upon  any  theme. 
.  .  .  Superior  to  '  The  Crisis'  ...  a  work  that  must  have 
cost  tremendous  toil,  a  masterpiece." — Pittsburgh  Gazette. 

' '  Will  stand  prominently  forth  as  the  strongest  book  that 
the  season  has  given  us.  A  book  that  is  dramatic,  pictur- 
esque, and  is  yet  realistic.1' — Philadelphia  Ledger. 


J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


FATE  THE   FIDDLER 

By  HERBERT  C.   MACILWAINE. 
izmo.     Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.50. 


"The  book  is  remarkably  attractive." — Journal,  Detroit. 

"  In  a  remote  district  of  the  great  inland-continent  of  Australia  two 
young  men  started  their  cattle  ranch,  and  their  successes  and  failures 
alike  form  the  warp  and  woof  of  the  tale,  which  gives  a  fair  idea  of 
the  processes  by  which  that  country,  in  like  manner  with  our  own 
great  West,  has  been  brought  under  the  orderly  hand  of  modern  civili- 
zation. All  this  is  interesting,  but  the  chief  interest  lies  in  the  virility 
of  the  story,  depicting  a  life  untrammeled  by  the  world's  conventions." 
— Post,  Washington. 

"  The  story  suggests  the  Manx  stories  of  Hall  Caine,  but  Caine  has 
never  produced  work  that  equals  Macllwaine's  in  strength  of  descrip- 
tion. '  Fate  the  Fiddler*  may  well  be  classed  among  the  really  great 
works  of  fiction  of  the  age." — Times,  Denver. 

"  Of  course  there  is  a  love  story,  but  it  is  subordinate  to  the  stirring 
life  of  the  frontiersmen  amid  scenes  of  peculiar  wildness  and  beauty. 
The  situations  are  thrilling  and  the  descriptions  powerful." — Evening 
Wisconsin,  Milwaukee. 

"This  book  has  been  called  pre-eminently  'a  man's  book'  on 
account  of  its  rugged  strength  and  its  lack  of  any  soft  sentimentality. 
Man' s  book  or  not,  it  is  intensely  interesting  to  readers  of  either  sex. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Macllwaine  is  an  entertaining  and  clever  writer.  His  de- 
scriptions are  fine,  his  knowledge  of  men  deep,  and  his  skill  in  de- 
picting the  settler's  life  in  Australia  well  worthy  of  note." — The 
Worcester  Spy. 

"Under  Mr.  Macllwaine's  pen  the  narrative  palpitates  with  life — 
the  huge  life  of  unbounded  horizon,  a  thousand  square  miles  of  un- 
touched territory,  of  elemental  conditions,  of  unbridled  freedom,  save 
only  as  one  is  tied  to  the  work  for  the  sake  of  his  best  prospects. 
Some  such  life  has  been  in  our  own  great  West,  but  no  Mr.  Mac- 
llwaine has  yet  done  justice  to  its  spirit,  though  of  studies  of  isolated 
characters  and  phases  we  have  many  from  skilled  pens." — Times, 
Kansas  City.  

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


BOHEMIAN  PARIS  OF  TO-DAY 

Written  by  From  Notes  by 

W.  C.  MORROW,          EDOUARD  CUCUEL. 

Illustrated   with    one    hundred    and    six    pen    drawings    by 
Edouard  Cucuel.      Cloth,  gilt  top,  orna- 
mental binding,  $3.50. 


"It  is  a  unique  volume  of  its  kind.  It  cannot  fail  to  be  of  interest 
to  the  foreign  tourist  in  the  gay  French  capital  who  had  imagined  that 
he  'knew  it  all,'  and  yet  felt  that  there  was  something  lacking." — • 
Times,  New  York. 

"  Comparatively  few  of  the  people  who  visit  Paris  are  ever  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  Latin  Quarter  and  Montmartre.  They,  as 
well  as  the  more  unfortunate  people  who  are  compelled  to  remain  at 
home,  will  be  made  free  of  '  Bohemian  Paris  of  To-Day'  by  means 
of  this  delightful  and  vivacious  work." — Press,  Philadelphia. 

"To  an  American  intending  to  depart  to  Paris  to  study,  nothing 
can  be  more  useful  than  this  work.  Mr.  Morrow's  keen  observation 
has  not  permitted  a  point  to  befool  him,  and  he  has  transcribed  the 
Bohemian  quarters  with  laudable  perspicuity  and  exactness.  His  pen 
is  charmingly  aided  by  the  pencil  of  Mr.  Edouard  Cucuel." — Boston 
Courier. 

"  A  great  many  books  have  been  written  about  the  life  of  the  art 
students  in  Paris,  but  this  book,  it  can  be  said  frankly,  surpasses  all 
its  rivals  in  vivacity  and  fidelity.  The  value  of  this  book  is  that  it 
comes  from  the  hand  of  a  man  who  has  actively  lived  the  life  of  an 
art  student  in  Paris.  The  book,  therefore,  is  a  frank,  matter-of-fact 
exibition  of  student  life  in  Paris  from  the  student's  view  point, — the 
good  and  the  bad.  Everything  is  related  with  engaging,  charming 
frankness.  The  studios,  the  balls,  the  cafes,  cabarets,  lodging-houses, 
and  dance-halls  all  are  described  vividly,  with  neither  toning  up  or 
toning  down.  The  drawings  with  which  the  book  is  illustrated  are  as 
frank  and  yet  charming  as  the  text  is.  The  combination  of  the  two  is 
the  most  fascinating  study  of  Bohemian  Paris  made  up  to  date." — 
Boston  Journal, 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


By  LOUIS   BECKE 


Mr.  Becke's  work  is  stamped  by  vigor  of  expression 
and  an  intensely  dramatic  imagination. 


BY  REEF  AND  PALM  and   HIS   NATIVE  WIFE. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

THE   EBBING  OF  THE   TIDE. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

RODMAN  THE  BOAT-STEERER,  AND  OTHER 

STORIES. 
RIDAN,   THE   DEVIL. 

THE   TAPU   OF   BANDERAH. 

YORKE,   THE   ADVENTURER. 
HELEN   ADAIR. 

BREACHLEY— BLACK  SHEEP. 

Large  zarno.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50  each. 

THE      STRANGE     ADVENTURE      OF     JAMES 
SHERVINTON. 

Illustrated.     8vo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


By  MARIE  CORELLI 

Marie  Corelli  has  many  remarkable  qualities  ai  a  writer  of  fiction.  Her  style 
is  singularly  clear  and  alert,  and  she  is  the  most  independent  of  thinkers  and 
authors  of  fiction ;  but  her  principal  gift  is  an  imagination  which  rises  on  a  bold 
and  easy  wing  to  the  highest  heaven  of  invention."— Boston  Home  Journal. 


BARABBAS. 

iimo.  Buckram,  $1.00.  Also  a  limited  edition,  illustrated  with 
photogravures  made  by  Goupil,  of  Paris,  from  drawings  by  the  famous 
French  artist  Marchetti.  Set  in  new  type,  handsomely  printed,  and 
bound  with  a  special  design  in  gold.  $3.50,  net.  With  frontis- 
piece in  colors,  $4.00,  net.  Postage,  17  cents  extra. 

VENDETTA. 

I2mo.     Buckram,  75  cents. 

THE  SORROWS   OF  SATAN. 

With  frontispiece.     lamo.     Buckram,  $1.50. 

CAMEOS. 

i2mo.     Buckram,  $1.00. 

THE   MURDER   OF   DELICIA. 

i2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  buckram,  $1.00. 

T'HE   MIGHTY  ATOM. 

i2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  buckram,  $1.25. 

BOY:   A   SKETCH. 

With  frontispiece.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

JANE  and  THE  MODERN  MARRIAGE  MARKET. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


General  King's  Military  Novels. 


THE  GENERAL'S  DOUBLE.  IN  SPITE  OF  FOES. 

THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER.    MARION'S  FAITH. 
THE  DESERTER.  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

CAPTAIN  BLAKE.  UNDER  FIRE. 

RAY'S  RECRUIT,  AND  A  TAME  SURRENDER. 
RAY'S  DAUGHTER. 

Illustrated.    $1.25  per  volume. 

TRIALS  OF  A  STAFF  OFFICER. 
KITTY'S  CONQUEST. 

STARLIGHT  RANCH,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
TWO  SOLDIERS,  AND  DUNRAVEN  RANCH. 
A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET,  AND  AN  ARMY   PORTIA. 
CAPTAIN  CLOSE,  AND  SERGEANT  CROESUS. 
Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00  per  volume. 

LARAMIE.  WARING'S  PERIL. 

A  TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

$1.00  per  volume. 

FOES  IN  AMBUSH. 
Cloth,  $1.25;  paper,  50  cents. 

TROOPER  ROSS,  AND  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 
FROM  SCHOOL  TO  BATTLE-FIELD. 
Illustrated.    $1.00  per  volume. 

(Edited  by) 

THE  COLONEL'S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 
AN   INITIAL   EXPERIENCE,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
CAPTAIN   DREAMS,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
Cloth,  75  cents  ;  paper,  50  cents. 


J.    B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA 


Miss  CarmichaePs  Conscience 

BY   BARONESS   VON   HUTTEN 

izmo.      Cloth,  ornamental,  with  Frontispiece,  $l.oo 

¥¥ 

"  We  are  told  that  no  woman  is  a  heroine  to  her  maid,  which  is  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  the  judgment  of  the  servants'  hall  is  based  upon 
information  that  is  strictly  private  and  confidential.  Thus,  while  Miss 
Carmichael  in  one  of  the  chapters  of  the  book  is  being  discussed  by  her 
aunt's  servants  at  their  early  breakfast,  Mr.  Graves,  the  veteran  butler, 
sums  up  his  young  mistress  as  follows :  '  I've  a-been  in  this  'ouse  a  mat- 
ter of  eleven  years,  and  the  goin's  on  is  beyond  belief.  First  there  was 
the  vicar's  young  gentlemen, — all  of  'em,  when  she  was  sixteen.  Then 
young  Worsley,  an  ensign  in  the  guards  he  was,  as  come  down  to  visit 
his  mamma.  Then  there  was  two  curates,  one  of  'em  had  the  'ay  fever 
and  the  other  one  went  down  on  his  knees, — as  I  'appened  in  with  the 
tea.  There  was  two  military  gents  after  that,  and  young  'Arford.  And 
little  Cranby,  'e  tried  to  kill  'imself.  And  then  there  was  a  Mr.  McKenzie 
who  visited  here.  You  remember  Cook,  him  as  ate  so  many  muffins.  He 
disappeared.'  '  She  'ave  a  cold  'art,'  murmured  Burrows,  who  was  ro- 
mantic and  wore  a  fringe  on  Sundays.  So  it  will  be  observed  that  Miss 
Carmichael  was  in  the  way  of  being  no  end  of  a  flirt.  The  manner  in 
which  this  young  lady's  conscience  is  exploited  and  finally  awakened  is 
very  cleverly  told  by  the  Baroness  von  Hutten  in  this  '  study  in  fluctua- 
tions,' as  the  book  is  styled  in  its  sub-title.  It  is  also  a  character  study, 
and  a  bright  and  shrewd  one  at  that.  The  dozen  people  who  constitute 
the  dramatis  persona  are  drawn  very  close  to  life — the  life  of  the  county 
set  in  an  English  provincial  neighborhood,  and  the  shred  of  moral  that 
goes  with  the  story  is  excellent  in  its  way  and  by  no  manner  of  means 
obtrusive.  If  the  authoress  can  write  other  books  as  clever  as  this, — the 
present  volume  would  seem  to  be  her  first  effort, — the  sooner  she  sets 
about  it  the  better."—  Tribune,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

"  She  sings  '  The  Night  has  a  Thousand  Eyes'  for  him  at  an  evening 
party  and  bids  him  good-by  in  the  presence  of  twenty  people.  He  sails 
.''.way  to  Brazil,  and  she  wakes  up  the  next  morning  with  a  bad  headache 
and  refuses  tea.  It  is  all  very  naturally  and  brightly  told,  and  the  dia- 
logue and  characterization  are  of  that  spitefully  witty  sort  in  which  lady 
novelists  especially  excel."—  Times-Herald,  Chicago,  111. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


PIKE  AND   CUTLASS. 

Hero  Tales  of  Our  Navy. 

By     GEORGE     GIBBS. 

Second  Edition.     With  fourteen  full -page  illustrations  by 
the  author.     Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.50. 

"A  stirring  book." — The  Evangelist,  New  York. 

"  Our  most  notable  sea-fights  are  chronicled  therein  with  painstaking  and 
fervor."—  The  Tribune,  New  York. 

"  Very  well  told  and  illustrated  in  a  way  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  see — a  way 
showing  care,  skill,  and  knowledge."— r,6«  Sun,  Baltimore. 

"  The  author  has  told  in  a  most  vivid  and  entertaining  manner  some  of  the 
heroic  acts  of  the  American  navy." — The  Times,  Pittsburg. 

"All  are  told  with  great  spirit,  and  the  illustrations  are  capital."— News, 
Providence. 

"  It  is  an  entertaining  book,  that  will  please  both  juvenile  and  adult  readers 
and  the  illustrations  are  excellent."—  The  Times,  Philadelphia. 

"It  is  a  book  that  will  please  any  boy  of  spirit."—  The  Chronicle ,  San 
Francisco. 

"  To  the  small  and  select  band  of  artists  who  can  write,  of  whom  Howard 
Pyle,  Frederick  Remington,  and  F.  Hopkinson  Smith  are  conspicuous  examples, 
we  may  now  add  the  name  of  Mr.  George  Gibbs.  Indeed,  after  considering  his 
book  from  a  literary  and  pictorial  stand-point,  one  hardly  knows  whether  to  call 
him  an  artist  who  writes  or  a  writer  who  illustrates.  It  is  not  often  that  such  a 
high  level  in  both  fields  is  attained  and  maintained  as  in  this  instance."— CYRUS 
TOWNSKND  BRADY,  in  Saturday  Evening  Post,  Philadelphia. 

"  The  work  is  done  with  patriotic  enthusiasm,  the  author  being  careful  of  his 
correctness,  yet  describing  the  events  in  a  way  that  fairly  sketches  them  in  the 
imagination." — The  Courier,  Boston. 

"  A  better  collection  for  a  boy's  library  need  not  be  sought,  and  every 
American  boy  might  read  this  book  with  profit.  The  ease  of  style  and  command 
of  information  impress  one  everywhere.  It  is  a  valuable  and  striking  book,  of 
permanent  worth." — The  Book  Buyer,  New  York. 

"  George  Gibbs's  pen  has  a  magic  in  describing  naval  encounters,  and  his 
brush  is  as  much  of  a  wizard  as  his  pen." — Christian  Endeavor  World.  Boston. 

"Will  undoubtedly  meet  with  universal  acceptation  and  approval."—  The 
Journal,  Detroit. 

"  They  are  well  written,  and,  dealing  with  incidents  in  themselves  picturesque 
to  the  last  degree,  appeal  to  the  patriotic  spirit  of  every  true-born  American.1  — 
The  Daily  Picayune,  New  Orleans. 

"The  stories  are  intensely  interesting." — The  Bookseller,  Newsdealer,  and 
Stationer,  New  York. 

"  They  are  good  stories  for  boy  and  man,  because  they  breathe  that  spirit  of 
fervid  patriotism  which  has  produced  heroes  in  our  own  day  and  in  the  past.  All 
are  written  in  a  direct  narrative  style,  which  is  spontaneous  and  unlabored." — 
The  Press,  Philadelphia. 

"  Not  only  very  interesting,  but  the  language  is  well  chosen."—  The  Journal, 

"  In  vivid  style  the  author  narrates  naval  encounters  famous  in  American 
history,  and  which  will  always  stir  the  hearts  of  men."—  The  Sunday  Herald, 
Baltimore. 

"  It  is  a  stirring  reading."—  The  Globe,  Boston. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA. 


AT  ODDS  WITH  THE  REGENT 

By  BURTON   E.  STEVENSON. 
With  frontispiece  by  Anna  W.  Belts,     izmo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


"The  course  of  the  tale  is  rapid,  and  the  many  moving  situations 
follow  each  other  in  a  manner  that  holds  the  reader  captive  till  the 
end." — Boston  Gazette. 

"Full  of  incident,  and  with  a  charming  love-story  interwoven."— 
Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  The  tale  is  well  worth  reading.  It  opens  in  a  most  interesting 
manner,  with  some  desperate  sword  play  against  a  historical  cut- 
throat— Cartouche — and  half  a  dozen  of  his  rogues,  in  a  street  of 
Paris  at  the  time  of  the  regency,  when  the  Due  de  Richelieu  was  at 
the  height  of  his  career  as  a  heart-breaker  and  the  especial  lover  of 
Louise  de  Valois." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  It  deserves  a  place  among  the  best  of  the  recent  historic  novels, 
and  will  live  no  doubt  long  after  the  present  vogue  has  become  a  thing 
of  the  past.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  read  a  romance  of  the  past  that  is 
not  filled  with  blood-curdling  deeds  after  the  style  of  the  '  shilling 
shocker,'  for  Mr.  Stevenson  has  written  a  story  that  appeals  to  the 
best  side  of  one's  nature.  He  has  characterized  noble  men  and  gentle 
women,  who  played  fair  always  and  were  always  true  to  themselves 
and  the  best  of  human  impulses.  The  'Old  Regime,'  as  he  pictures 
it,  was  a  charming  era  when  men  bartered  life  freely,  but  held  honor 
and  plighted  word  dearer  than  existence.  Altogether  the  story  is 
good  as  to  tone,  artistic  development  of  the  plot,  and  finished  style." 
— St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


UL  APRI  9 
MAR031999 


